The Case of the Drunken Beach Ho
A Semi-Fiction Novel
By.... Peter Hill
“Peter Hillxxxx, Mr. Hillxxxx come to the photo desk”, a lady’s voice said. I get up out of my chair, papers in hand
and head to the photo desk. I walk into the little room (everything is in little rooms except the man at the tall desk), she
asks for my name, birthdate and a bunch of other questions I don’t remember. I give her all this information and she
kindly asks me to stand on the two foot prints on the floor next to the wall. I do as she asks and she says, “look strait”
so I look strait, “turn right” so I turn right, “turn left” so I turn left, “ok we’re done. Please go have a seat Mr. Hillxxxx”. So
After a while the Officer at the tall desk asks me to come forward. He also asks for my information. Name, birthdate
and all those other questions. I gave him the information he asked for and he hands me a card and proceeds to inform
me that this is my identification and I am not to lose it or damage it. “You must wear your identification everywhere you
go” he said. Ok I thought, I think I got that. Next he hands me a piece of paper. On it he points to the paper and says to
me “this is your inmate number, this is the date you were booked and this here is your account number, you use this
number to dial out on the phone and to access your commissary.” I nod my head and say, ok, got it, thank you. Then I
proceed to return to my seat.
I lean back in the not so comfy chair and allow my thoughts to turn to the Humans and how I know it was not a
Caribou that put me in this life disrupting situation. It was not a fish or a bird, but a Human. This leads me to the
conclusion that I will most likely be dealing with a long drawn out, frustrating ordeal. I perceive this to be the near future
#1 The person doing this to me is a Human.
#2 Officer “G” (Who did not tell me anything) is more than likely a Human.
#3 The Human legal System is mostly comprised of Humans and
#4 I exist on a world with 8.? Billion Humans on it.
So……. More than likely this is going to be quite ride. A ride worth writing about, maybe, even, kinda. At this
particular juncture in the process I wasn’t really thinking about a book. I was thinking about what a load of crap this all
is. And of course, when’s dinner?? And I really would like to see the evidence against me. ‘Cuz I know you ain’t got
A man from another little room calls out my name. So I head to “The Medical Room”. I get there and the man asks
me to sit down and I obliged. He leans over and looks at my Identification and proceeds to get his pen. He then asks
about my medical history. You know the drill. “Ya got this, ya got that”? “You ever have this”? “You on any
Pharmaceutical stuff” etc. So of course I’m responding, “No, no and no”. A few more no’s and then I tell him that I got
Hay Fever but that’s only if I run through a patch of Rag Weed up north in the spring. Next he’s going to take my blood
pressure. He wheels over this contraption thing. More high tech stuff. It looks pretty impressive. It’s on its own little
stand, it’s got wheels and crap. Pretty cool really. Of course I can tell it’s a blood pressure device. But it looks like it
can do a lot more than just that. He wraps the air bag thing around my arm, presses a button and goes back to his
He does a little scratching with his pen and then turns around. He says, “You got some high blood pressure there
buddy. I can give you something for that”. I say “no thank you. I don’t do drugs”. He tells me that I’m at risk for this and
that because my blood pressure is high. So I proceed to explain to him that the pressure of my blood is most likely high
due to the fact that, I was woken up, sent jail, stripped of my clothes and I have committed no crime. I asked him what
he thought his blood pressure would be like under the same circumstances. He just kinda of smiled and said, “We’re
done here”. Back to my seat in the big room I went.
Mr Hillxxxx…..please come to the H.R. desk. I get over there and I sit down in front of the lady. She looks at my
Identification and writes something down. She asks me if this is my first time in this facility. I tell her it has been twenty
years since I have been to this jail. She asks if I’m gay or any of the other things a Human can be. I told her no. “Have
you ever been in a fight in jail”? “No ma’am”. “Do you have a drug addiction?’ “No”. “Do you want to kill yourself?” I
thought for a minute, “Hmmmmm. No, I guess not.” I think, “Man. All the things I could have done with that question.”
She then sends me back to my seat. I know I’ve got to be missing dinner by now.
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