[11] Roach Town

[11]

Detective Roger Zone of the NYPD is a logical man. A thinking man. A bright man, in fact. He can read social cues and the like. He knows when he is wrong and he can freely admit that. He also knows when he is right, a thing that gives him great joy to announce to the world. Zone is a kind man and a principled man. A good man, even. A moral man. He is a man that will do the right thing when the right thing is obvious. He is even the kind of man that will do the right thing when it is only obvious to him. The problem with Zone, as it pertains to our little tale here, is that he has a blind spot when it comes to certain desires with regards to comfort. He is not a glutton for hot tail, like Gagger. He does share a deep seated desire to do all of the drugs and drink all of the alcohol, but that is not what I am talking about. What I am talking about is a desire to be finished when he is done with things. Like, for instance, the car ride up to Vermont. His desire for comfort shows itself in a great and almost un-quenchable impatience. When Zone has decided on something, there is almost no way to turn him in any other direction than the direction, the path, that he is leading down. It is this myopic focus that makes him a good detective. If not a great detective. And, as it is, as it plays out, once he has decided on something, he begins to wear blinders. Like some easily spooked horse. And as such. On this particular night. Zone had an opportunity to see the world in a more global sense. The larger picture, as it were. But having already decided the outcome to this particular evening, he had no desire to see things as they were. No, Zone did not see things as they were, this very evening. Instead, he saw them as he wanted to see them. And more power to him. It had been a very long, and very annoying day. A day that did not go the way he wanted it to go. A day that was filled with weirdos and jack-asses and cowards and boobs. Boobs two ways. The jugs that Gagger sucked on when he was having his fun-time bang fest with both Bonny and the Officer Lindsay, and the boobs that made up the duo, Gary Alone and Union Dan. Zone was pooped. He needed rest. He needed it now. He was going to get it. He was going to walk up to the room that he shared with Detective Gagger in the Park House. On the third floor. The room that most likely smelled like manure and anal sex and Gagger's drunken mouth smells. As well as his feet smells. My god! Zone thought when he remembered Gagger's feet. The kind of feet that could melt shoes with their stink. The kind of feet that one time when flying on an airplane with Gagger he had done the unthinkable and incredibly rude thing of taking his shoes off creating such a stink cloud on the plane that the flight attendants had sprayed disinfectant spray every time they passed their seats. Gagger didn't care. He not only didn't care, but he was asleep, so he couldn't, in fact, care less. Zone apologized and apologized, but the flight attendants did not take pity on Zone. Quite the opposite. They cut him off from the drink cart and frowned at him for the rest of the flight. There was nothing doing though. Zone could not wake Gagger as hard as he tried. Gagger would just mumble and adjust his large sleeping body. At one point Zone tried to put Gagger's shoes back on his feet, but they were pushed too far under the seat in front of him to be reached. Zone gave up. Sober and annoyed. Wallowing in a stink pit. Waiting for the flight to get finished. It really was a misery for Zone. But he powered through. And ever since that inglorious flight, Zone either insisted on not flying next to Gagger, or made him promise that he would keep his shoes on. This only made Gagger laugh. But Gagger, although an asshole, he was not a complete asshole. As of this date, that situation has not come up again. Although, Zone has a feeling, deep down inside, that it will happen again. And he is not looking forward to it when it does.

Zone was thinking about this incident as he crept up the stairs. Slowly, silently. Had he not been so focused on getting some shut eye, he might have had a different thought. Such as, Maybe I should sleep in the sitting room? Or maybe I should find a blanket and sleep on the lawn? On the porch? I know I snore like a monster, I know the grandmas are Nazis, I know I will cause trouble tonight, and the best way to avoid conflict is to avoid that conflict. If I was a smarter, more reasonable man, I would do this. But Zone did not do that. He kept walking. Slowly, silently, up the stairs. He was aware of every creak, every crackle, every slide of his foot, or knock against a stair. Zone was well aware of the land mines he was avoiding, yet he kept walking. Slowly, silently. Like some soldier during some First World War. Oh, Zone, just put the pieces together, man! You don't have to do this! It will not end well! Zone! I beg of you! But Zone did not listen to reason. He listened only to himself and his myopic view of sleep. He was quite pooped. He wanted to be done with it all. Get a few hours of shut-eye. To hit the reset button on the magnificent brain of his. Everyone else can suck one. He had earned it.

Zone finally reached the room he was sharing with the very uncouth Gagger on the third floor of Park House, in Rochester, Vermont. Sometime in July. In the year of our lord, who the hell knows? A simpler time. A time without the modern world breathing down our necks. But when that was, is anyone's guess. But it was not too long ago, however, it was long enough ago that the statute of limitations has long run out. Zone opened the door and got punched in the nostrils by Gagger and his stink bomb. It was far worse than expected. There was a third smell, or fourth smell, that was added, maybe even a fifth smell, Zone, like a sommelier for Gagger's stinks, detected a few other notes that didn't belong. Zone didn't even have to think about them, he knew. He knew right away what they were. The extra fruity notes and skunky undertones aside from the manure and the feet and boozy mouth breathing. Bonny! It was Bonny and her baby oven, her ass, and her perfume. Fucking hell, Gagger had had a visitor in the time between being dropped off by the hearse driving hippy and now. Zone kind of wondered why there hadn't been a second insurrection, but maybe there had been, Zone didn't know. Grandma Helen hadn't mentioned it, so maybe they got away with the thing, Bonny and Gagger. Or maybe the grandmas had decided to choose their battles. Or who knows? Maybe Bonny had offered the grandmas an extra desert after dinner tomorrow, or something. Maybe a trip to the mall in Burlington in the Park House van this weekend. A bribery of sorts, to look the other direction. Zone didn't know. He would find out eventually. For now, all that mattered to him was his head hitting the pillow and the lights of his camera going out for the night.

Things started out just fine. Zone didn't immediately kick into donkey-mode. He took his shoes off. Laid down on top of the covers. Leaving all his clothes on. He was out in seconds. If not micro-seconds. He slept quietly and soundly. It was a little impressive. How quickly he was out, and how silently he slept. A miracle even. But the miracle did not last. Like all miracles, there are consequences. You may beat cancer, but now you have a lifetime of hospital bills that mean you have to work two jobs until you die from natural causes. That sort of thing. Around five in the morning Zone's donkey awoke. And boy did his donkey bray. The windows shaking. The floorboards rattling. The china clinking. Even the carpet fibers waved in the wind. It was something astounding. Car alarms would have gone off had there been any cars nearby. There weren't any, but had there been, the alarms would have gone off. Had anyone been walking by they would have assumed a bear had gotten into the Park House and was mauraurdering the place. Attacking a donkey that had also somehow gotten into the house. And the poor, poor grandmas. All of whom were essentially just waking up anyway, which made the infringement on their peace even more irksome. It was one thing to have a couple boozed-up, sex hound detectives with their uncouth ways and late hours mucking up the works, it was another thing to have their internal peace and paper thin New England house obliterated by the guttural espousing of some chipped tooth lumberjack sawing the midnight lumber. It was not good. It was unfortunate. And it was in absolute poor form on Zone's behalf.

Gagger did not notice. He was in SnoozeTown, Virginia. Dreaming of lick-alot-apuss rex. Sending up tent poles to the gods under his blanket. A wet dream of a man. A man with a hollow dick. The kind of man that many a woman had asked him "Where do you hold it all?" And of course his response "I have a hollow dick." To which, always, I mean, always the response "It certainly doesn't feel hollow," But let us set that aside for a moment and get back to Zone. Zone was very unaware of his surroundings. He was dreaming again of Dirty and his transitioning. A second dream of the same ilk was not a good sign for Zone. His sleeping brain was working overtime. As well as his nostrils and his throat and his mouth and tongue. He looked like a laid out vulture on that bed of his. His Adam's apple protruding. His mouth open. His nose protruding. Lying on his back. The rest of his body straight as an arrow. His hands and arms at his side. He didn't know that a gang of grandmas was gathering outside the bedroom door, planning, speaking in what they thought were whispers, but were, in fact, loud declarations:

"Well, somebody has to put an end to this! I can't possibly go first, my hip, Helen, you have a way with these guys, you go in." Grandma Helen said:

"Oh, no. They would swipe me like a mosquito. I think we all need to go in at once." Miss Cookie said:

"I say we go down and get a rolling pin." Grandma Lorene said:

"And then what, Miss Cookies? We beat them with it?" Miss Cookies said:

"We got to do something." Grandma Helen said:

"We can't beat them with a rolling pin, that would not be nice." Grandma Lorene said:

"We are not trying to be nice, Helen. This needs to end!" Then the chorus spoke up:

"Yeah! Not nice, Helen!" Miss Cookies said:

"We need to send a message!" Then Grandma Hellen said:

"Well, what the hell do we do, then? They are big, beastly, bulging men. We won't win any fisticuffs. I got the hip, and you got the hip, even you got the hip, we all got the hip! And I got the rheumatoid, and so do you, and you, we all got the rheumatoid. Our only hope is in numbers. We just got to charge in and put an end to this!" The chorus spoke up again:

"It ends now!" Then they kept going:

"Now! Now! Now!" It is unknown who opened the door, but somebody did. The grandmas charged inside screaming:

"Now! Now! Now!" They were dealt a hefty punch from Gagger's stink cloud. A couple of them peeled off. Casualties from the stench. But the remaining four continued, unabated. One of them yelled:

"Forget the stink! Stay on target!" The others found this rallying cry inspiring. They kept yelling:

"Now! Now! Now!" The mayhem woke Zone up. He watched four grandmas slowly approaching Gagger and him. Screaming "Now! Now! Now!" He looked over at Gagger. Who was slowly waking up. Two of the grandmas were punching his boner that was poking up from under his blanket. Like boxers at some ballasted body bag on a spring. One yelled:

"It's huge! And it won't go down!" The other one yelled:

"Bite it!" This woke Gagger up faster than if a rooster lived in his ear canal. He both slid back and sat straight up at the same time. He screamed:

"What is happening?!" Zone was under attack himself. The grandmas were karate chopping his body. It actually felt nice. Like a frontal massage of sorts. The smell of menthol and grandma perfumes though was what really attacked Zone. That mixed with Gagger's stenches and Bonny's stenches was too much to take. Zone yelled:

"I don't know! We are under attack!" Zone got out of bed. Careful to not injure the grandmas. The kept karate chopping him. He kind of wanted to lay down on his stomach and get a full body massage out of the thing. But he didn't he grabbed his shoes and ran out the door. Gagger yelled at him:

"Come back! Help me!" Zone yelled back:

"Every man for himself!" Zone ran downstairs. A few moments later Gagger was there. He was naked but for the blanket wrapped around him. He stank to high heaven. Zone winced. He said:

"Dude! I thought I told you to shower!" Gagger took umbrage to this. He said:

"I tried!" But then he remembered that Zone had left him in the middle of a battle. He said:

"Man! I can't believe you left me up there fearing for my life!" Zone scoffed at this. He said:

"Yeah, had you stayed any longer you would have been tenderized." Gagger knew he was being dramatic, but he still persisted:

"I don't know, they could have bit my dick, man." Zone said:

"It's before dawn, Gag, everyone knows that they don't put their teeth in until breakfast. My guess is that you would have liked it." Gagger thought about this. A missed opportunity. He deflated a little bit. Zone picked up on his change of mood. He said:

"Dude, you belong in a prison." Gagger took offense to this. He said:

"What'd I do?" But he knew that Zone was probably correct. Had he thought about it, he would have let the grandmas go to town on his erection with their naked gums. And he would have enjoyed it. He almost walked back up to the third floor to find out. He was erect again and all he had to cover himself was that blanket. Just then Bonny came down. Rubbing sleep from her eyes. She was wearing pajamas. Zone could see her nipples poking through her flannel top. He looked over at Gagger, who was slyly showing her his erection. Bonny was transfixed. Zone said:

"God-damn-it! Not now! You fucking Caligula’s! This is serious!" Bonny regained her composure. Gagger calmed down a little. Bonny said:

"What happened?" Gagger cut Zone off. He said:

"Zone sawed a log so big the natives got restless." Bonny frowned. She was well aware of the snoring. She said:

"Yeah, it was a little much. I suppose our arrangement is not going to last." Zone was tired. He wanted more sleep. He marbled:

"You think?" Bonny couldn't understand him. She said:

"What?" Gagger spoke for Zone. He said:

"Yeah, that is kind of obvious, now." Bonny frowned again. Her nipples were no longer hard. She started to walk into the kitchen. She said:

"I guess I will make some coffee." Zone looked at Gagger and said:

"Man, just keep it in your pants for a few hours. We need to figure this out. I am exhausted." Gagger smiled in a way that Zone knew he understood. It didn't mean much, but it was something. Zone decided he had a few hours at least before shit hit the fan again. He looked up the stairs. The grandmas were finally making it down the stairs. It was a stampede of flannel night gowns and slippers. Zone went a little rubbery. The grandmas were very cute. Even if they were as angry as they were. They pushed past Zone and Gagger and went straight into the sitting room. A few of them said:

"Move it or lose it, assholes." Then one of them yelled:

"Where's the coffee, Bonny?" Bonny yelled from the kitchen:

"One sec!" Then Zone heard her mutter "You fucking dried up raison jerky motherfuckers." Zone looked over. Bonny did a shoulder thing that expressed that she didn't mean to be a dick, but she was anyway. Zone smiled a flat smile at her. Merely lips and a bit of an up-curve. He didn't want to chastise her as well. This was not the time for this sort of nonsense. Bonny knew she was in trouble. But then again, it was her house to deal with, so she ignored Zone. Zone understood this. He felt a bite of shame from the interaction. He didn't know what to do. He was exhausted and wanted to go back to sleep. He looked over at Gagger. Gagger was wide awake. Standing there vulnerable in his blanket. Naked. Zone said:

"Hey, go take a shower. You really can't be in society now, man. Do me a favor, though. I am going to go back and catch a few more winks. If you can hear me, come wake me up. If you know what I mean?" Gagger nodded. Zone continued:

"And please, for the love of Christ, bone Bonny in her room, not ours. I just need a few more hours, I am dead on my feet here." Gagger took pity on Zone and did what he said. Zone followed him up the stairs. He took off his boots. Got back into bed. Gagger went to the top of the bed and kissed Zone's forehead. Zone said:

"I know you think you are being funny, Gag, but that was really nice." Gagger blushed. It was a moment of irony that was actually sincere. The two detectives were good friends that loved each other. Gagger actually meant the kiss on the forehead and Zone actually appreciated the kiss. Gagger went and took a shower. Zone thought about his Dirty dream. The one about transitioning. This helped him fall asleep. Thinking about a dream he had had. When Gagger crept back into the room to get some kind of clean clothes from his bag Zone was asleep. Not snoring. Just sleeping. Gagger crept out and found himself down the hall inside Bonny's room. It didn't matter though because the grandmas were satiated. At the moment. And Zone was asleep. For the moment. And they would have to figure something else out, for sure, but for now, everything had regained a certain equilibrium. The grandmas were sated. Zone was sated. And Bonny and Gagger would be sated, again and again again. What with Gagger's hollow dick and all. The people that were not sated though were both Captain toothpick coward Sergeant and the hippy hearse driver. The hippy hearse driver was just getting home. after a long night of lugging dead bodies around town and taking them to Middlebury. And the Captain toothpick coward Sergeant, who had no idea in the world about how to solve a murder, who was still pissed off at Zone for some reason that couldn't be understood, who was trying to get some sleep at the morgue in Middlebury on a plastic couch because he couldn't, not for one second, let this thing go. He was way over his head, and he would fight to his death to admit that. He was the kind of guy that thought that pure bulldog policing would give him results. And as such, he was a little like Detective Zone, in the sense that he was myopic, but he was myopic for different reasons, he was terrified that people would find out how much of a dilettante he was. That he had no clue where his ass started and where his butthole ended. He didn't know if he was sucking up turds from the toilet or pushing them out into the bowl. Either way the toilet paper came back dirty, never clean. The toilet paper never came back clean. He hated Zone with all his guts. He knew it, but there was no way to define it. He tried to get some sleep. His next idea was to look at the dead body of the woman with the blood under her nose. The body found in the greenhouse in Rochester. Then he would know. He would see it. He would figure it out by sheer determination alone. But first he needed some sleep. He fell asleep on that plastic couch. Thankful for a few moments of respite from the lies he spent his life hiding from everyone he knew. Yes, he was a coward, but the thing about Captain Sergeant, was that not only was he a coward, but he was such a coward that he would destroy anyone else around him to avoid being found out as the coward that he was. And instead of working on solving this poor woman's murder, he started hatching a plan to take down Detective Zone. Because he knew, Captain Sergeant, that this murder was going to come back and bite him in the ass. He knew this mostly for two reasons:

One, this woman, the poor woman that had been murdered, was his cousin. Her name was Misty Sergeant. Even with her bleached blonde hair and fancy clothes, Captain Sergeant recognized her from middle school. Which was kind of problematic for him. Even his other cousin, the Officer Lindsay hadn't noticed who the body was. Captain Sergeant would need to talk to her, soon. Very soon. And the second thing, this was actually the third murder in a string of murders that refused to go away. A thing that, Captain Sergeant knew meant that whether or not he wanted it to, it would lead back to Rochester. And back in Rochester, there was a snot-nosed, liberal dipshit detective named Detective Roger Zone of the NYPD, who was basically waiting for him there, like a fucking communist spider, waiting to pounce. Who was already this close to exposing the incompetence of Captain Sergeant, and not only that, but the entire police force of the Vermont State Police. It was something that would not be accepted. Captain Sergeant could not accept it. He slept like fitful ants rebuilding their mound after some child thought it was entertaining to stomp on it. Captain Sergeant was so worried about things that his stomach hurt. He slept though. If only because he had no choice. The next few days would be a terror on his commissary. Which was not a word he would use to describe it, but it was a word that defined his dilemma exactly.