[13] Roach Town
[13]
Zone was annoyed as he walked up the stairs. The press and the cops rarely saw things the same way. Even if Zone was one of the good ones, a thing that was and is disputed, but let's say, even if Zone was one of the good ones, he was not treated kindly by the press. Not for anything specific, which, there was plenty of things specific to criticize Zone for, but the press didn't know this. They only saw things from their own viewpoint. Their own perspective. Rightly or wrongly. Zone was aware of this. He also knew that his viewpoint was skewed in the same way. He had a job to do, the press had a job to do, that did not upset Zone. What did upset Zone though, was the feeling of helplessness when it came to the press. They had awful timing and did not respect boundaries. Reporter Sergeant was no exception. She had come onto the porch with no information and then just assumed there was a cover-up. What a horrible way to live, Zone thought. Always paranoid that something was amiss. Zone understood that he himself was skeptical, but he had his reasons, and that was enough, he wasn't sure about reporters though. They always seemed to have some sort of alternate agenda, an ulterior motive. Like they came to a conclusion and worked backwards. Whereas Zone worked with the assumption that things were exactly as they seemed until proven otherwise. A thing that made him good at his job. A thing that if he had one wish that he could make that would change society for the better it would be for more people to think in the ways that he did naturally. That there was no sinister plot conspiring to cause grave harm to humanity, in fact, it was the opposite. Most people were just bad news. Bad news that knew no different. That most crime was committed on impulse without malice intentional. That people didn't steal things because they wanted to steal things, they stole out of desperation. And that was true for shop lifters as well as corporate CEOs. And the only real difference was the separation of the people that committed the crime from where the crime was committed. A person caught shoplifting can't deny they were caught shoplifting because they were caught shoplifting, whereas a CEO getting caught pilfering money wasn't usually caught holding a big bag of money. It didn't work that way. And like all things in this world where justice is concerned, the phrase "Red-Handed" was a term of art. And therefore political in it's nature. The same reason that killing one person is a tragedy, but murdering a million people is a statistic. Our entire modern political operandi is based on this notion. There is a moment when you are, in fact, above the law. And this frustrated Zone to no end. And how this relates to Reporter Sergeant, and the press, the press needed a story. The simpler the better. Which meant that people like her, people of the press corps. They always assumed that things were simple. Even when all the evidence suggested otherwise. And Zone, being as flawed as any human being is, got caught in their trap many times over the years. Being forced to defend the indefensible. Crime was not black and white. As much as you would like to believe that it was. As anyone would like to believe it was. As very much the press and Reporter Sergeant would do anything possible to maintain that narrative. There were no "Bad Guys" in the world, just simple humans doing horrible things. There was no greater motive than that. And Zone, always open, always free to engage all sides of any argument, found himself exhausted once again having to think about this. He thought that one day he would write a book about it. When everything calmed down. When he finally was able to retire. He would write it all down. Be the final word on the matter. Lord knows he has had the experience to do such a thing. He just needed to learn to write. Maybe that is what he should do now? Here in Vermont, while taking the cure. He thought about this. The thought breaking his foul annoyance. Maybe he could find a typewriter somewhere? Why not? He had the time. Now that the State Police had taken over the murder of the poor woman in the greenhouse with the bloody nose and the cockroach tattoo.
These thoughts bounced around in Zone's head as he sat on the throne. The shower running. Steam filling the small bathroom on the third floor. He flushed and stood up. He didn't wipe. He figured the shower would do a better job of it. Plus he wanted to save a tree or two whenever he got the chance. He reached behind the shower curtain and adjusted the water temperature. Then he pulled to the other side of the curtain open and stepped into the tub. The next thing that happened was a purge of sorts. A week of grime and stink came sloughing off of him. The water dropping to his feet was brown. Black almost. He spread his butt cheeks and bideted his butthole. This led to a browning of the waters. He felt heavy down below. The smell of Reporter Sergeant’s perfume overtook him. That and Siobhan's heaving bosom shot loads of pearls into the muck and moisture. This release cleared Zone's head. He hadn't realized how pent up he had become. His prostate hurt a little because of it. He kicked the large load towards the drain with his long and narrow naked feet. He decided that it was time to cut his toenails. They looked like claws on the tips of his toes. That and the sparse black hairs reminded him of vulture feet. In fact, had you seen Zone shower, the whole operation would remind you of a vulture. His slightly bent shoulders. His skinny body and large Adam's apple. His slicked-back dark-brown hair. His broken tooth kind of sticking out. His large nose. Even his penis had a vulture like quality. Kind of bent down and bouncing. Nearly hairless. Just a tuft of soft black something or other. Like a shoulders. His balls kind of long and slender. Nearly wings. And his chest, sticking out, but his stomach bending inward, below the sternum. He wasn't un-handsome that way, but he was more bird than he was man. Visually. He washed his body with the bar of soap provided. He washed his hair. His face. He needed to shave, but not so much that he would do anything about it. His beard took months to grow. What he had now was just kind of a dirty mustache and a few side chin stragglers. He rinsed his body until the water fell down clear. He washed his butt one more time. Just for safe keeping. He enjoyed showering, but sometimes he just didn't find the time, so when he did shower, he made sure that the job was finished before he stopped. He took a mouthful of water from the shower head. Rinsed it around in his mouth for a second and spat it out. He wished he had brought his toothbrush in with him so he could brush his teeth, but there was nothing to do about that now. He turned the shower off. Stepped out onto the bath mat. Dried himself off with the towel that was hanging on the towel rack next to the shower. Put it back. Gathered his clothes and boots from the floor. Opened the door. Made sure that nobody was standing outside and walked naked to the bedroom where he and Gagger were staying.
The smell inside was horrible. Even with the window open, Gagger's stink was unmistakable. The anal sex and the other sex and the manure. There was still even some grandma smell lingering from the insurrection. The storming, as it were. The riot. He sat on the edge of his bed. Naked and still damp. He bent over and rooted through his bag. Not sure what he would find. He had packed in a daze the day before. He was surprised to find clean socks and a clean shirt. He pulled to socks on. He sat there naked with his socks on. This aroused him for some reason. He listened to the house. There was nobody he could hear. The door was open, but so what? Nobody was around. He laid down on the bed. His feet dangling over the edge. He went to work. Still thinking about the Reporter Sergeant. This time he didn't think about Siobhan's jugs. He came up with some other convoluted thing where the reporter needed to come inside and use the bathroom, but maybe not, maybe she was in the mood. Zone was yanking away furiously when he heard a coughing noise. He opened his squinted eyes to find the person he was whacking off to standing right there in the doorway. What happened next still needs sorting out because instead of Zone stopping what he was doing, instead of Reporter Sergeant letting out a yelp and turning around and racing down the stairs, Zone looked right into the reporters eyes, the reporter, stunned, opened her mouth, and I don't mean to be graphic, but the way the Zone was holding his erect penis and the place that the reporter Constance Sergeant was standing, what looked like a pearly white dove alighted through the air, catching sunlight and sparkling as it turned and rotated against the wind. The thing landed directly on Reporter Sergeant’s bottom lip and chin. Zone stood up in slow motion. Reporter Sergeant tried to duck. The words that came out of her mouth were:
"Oh, nooooooo!" She dropped to the floor. Zone ran over. Not knowing what to do. It was so dramatic that he thought that maybe he had hurt her with his load. He stood over the reporter. Naked, wearing only black socks. The look on her face. The cum dripping down her chin. For some reason she was trying to lick the stuff off of her bottom lip. Then she looked at Zone. She recoiled. Putting her elbow over her head. Like he was going to strike her. Zone backed away. The reporter managed to wipe her face off with the inside of her elbow. Then she looked at what came off. Then she looked at Zone. Standing there. Vulture-like. His dick dangling in the wind. His socks, black. He had a crooked smile glued to his face. Not that he was smiling. It just looked like he was smiling. The reporter said:
"Knock that fucking grin off your face, asshole." Zone opened his lips. Exposing a grimace. He didn't know what to do. Just then he heard the front door open. The grandmas were cackling like laying hens. He could hear Detective Gagger too. Zone took a micro second to note that the walls in the Park House were incredibly thin indeed. Zone tried to stay calm, but he was at odds with himself. He needed to dress, but at the same time he needed to help Reporter Sergeant off the floor. He tried to bend over and give her his hand. She swiped it away. She said:
"Unhand me, you goon!" Zone took offense to this.
He marbled: "I didn't even touch you!"
Reporter Sergeant said: "You just came on my face, you dirty fucking dog!" Zone didn't know what to say.
He said: "I don't know what to say. You can't just barge in on a guy like that! I was minding my own business!" The reporter stood up. Zone backed away even more. She looked at his naked penis. Zone didn't know if she was having thoughts or if she was about to bite the thing to the quick. To confuse matters more, the reporter licked her lips again. Then looked at her elbow in disgust. She turned around and walked out of the room. Zone looked at her tight little buns. This didn't help matters. It also didn't help matters that as she was turning around to go down the stairs she looked into the room. At Zone. And licked her lips again. Obviously tasting the ejaculation. She didn't wipe her mouth or anything. Zone got hard again. She stopped walking down the stairs to look. Then she squeezed her lips together. And started walking again. Zone was very confused. He put on the clean shirt. His pants and his boots. As fast as he could. He wanted to get downstairs as quickly as possible before the reporter had a moment to talk to Gagger. Zone didn't know if this was a detective thing, or if he wanted to make sure Gagger didn't get a chance to dig his overly endowed claws into the reporter before Zone had a chance to, he didn't know, see how things were? Zone's morning was getting very erratic indeed. He heard the woodpecker pecking on some tree in the distance. Outside the open window.
He muttered to himself: "Oh, shut it down, now is not the time."
-------------------
The grandmas and Gagger and Bonny Sergeant had spent the morning in a very loving way. The grandmas were cranky as hell. The snoring of Detective Zone and the insurrection had worked them into a froth. A froth so great the Bonny had promised them a field trip as soon as breakfast was finished. They ate their food like normal. Voracious and bird-like. Neither sucking things down, nor letting anyone get the "Good Stuff" as Miss Lassider called it. Gagger had a good time with it though. He was well rested. Sneaking a make-out session with Bonny every chance he got. He even managed to get a blow job at a certain point, but let us not focus on these things. After breakfast the grandmas took a nap in the sitting room. Gagger helped Bonny clean up. Then some other things. When the morning nap was finished, they all filed out into the Park House van and drove North of town to the berry farm. Where the grandmas complained while picking berries. Saying stuff like:
"It's too hot!" And:
"These bushes are thorny!" And:
"What is that smell?" And:
"These strawberry seeds are going to gum up my dentures!" And:
"That breeze is too aggressive!"
After the berry farm they all had little baskets filled with random berries that none of them wanted. Citing various ailments and such:
"I can't eat this, my stomach can't handle it!"
And: "There ought to be a law growing raspberries so tasteless!"
And: "When is lunch? I forgot to take my medication."
And: "Slow down! Can't you see that corner coming up!"
They stopped at the creemee stand on the way back to the Park House. Bonny bought them all the smallest cones that were available. The complaining was across the board:
"Why is this so small? I get one lick and now I am done with it? There ought to be a law."
And: "Why is this so big? I can't eat all this ice cream! Are you trying to kill me?"
And: "I don't eat cones! I thought you knew that!" Followed by Miss Cookies throwing her creemee on the ground and stomping on it with her foot.
By the time they got back to Park House, everyone was exhausted and needed a nap. It was about an hour before noon. The grandmas went into the sitting room to rock themselves to sleep. Gagger and Bonny were thinking they might go upstairs to fuck, but they weren't feeling it. Gagger was thinking that maybe he needed a nap himself, and Bonny had to get lunch ready. They were standing in the kitchen about to part ways when Reporter Sergeant came down the stairs. She was licking her lips and wiping her elbow on her hip. Bonny cocked her head to the side and said:
"Connie?"
Reporter Sergeant said: "Don't call me that." Bonny Sergeant, who was Constance's cousin, didn't fall for the distraction.
She said: "What are you doing upstairs?"
Reporter Sergeant said: "I am here on official business."
Gagger, always the pervert, said: "Where's Zone?" He was laying on the charm. Bonny looked at Gagger out of the corner of her eyes. Constance was the Sergeant that made good. She was both attractive and successful. According to Bonny. And in this very moment, she was a threat. Bonny did a thing that embarrassed herself, but she did it anyway. She grabbed Gagger's elbow. Gagger looked over and frowned. Bonny looked up at him and smiled. The reporter took this interaction in. Not knowing what to make of it. She found Detective Gagger repulsive. An erect penis on two wheels. Something fatuous. Plus the smell of manure and anal sex made her nose twitch.
She said: "I don't know. That guy upstairs?" Gagger knew better than to just take her explanation at face value. Bonny didn't, however.
She said: "Why are you always meddling in my affairs, Connie? You were like this in middle school, why can't you just let it go?" Gagger looked over at Bonny. Still holding his arm. He tried to get loose. She held him even tighter. "You think with your big degrees and your newspaper clippings you can just have a run of the place without no issue? I don't know how you can sit on the apple box of yours and think your shit don't stink, Connie." She was saying Constance's name "Connie" like it was a sword or a metal poker. Brandishing it even.
Reporter Sergeant said: "I told you to stop calling me that!" Bonny was holding onto Gagger like her life depended on it. Gagger was trying to pull away.
Bonny said: "Sorry, Connie, I mean, Con-stance, Miss-too-cool-for-school. You can't get this guy as well, I already got him!" For some reason Gagger fell into the trap.
He said: "Ladies, ladies, there is enough G-man to go around, Bonny, you know that."
Reporter Sergeant said: "Yeah, no thank you. If I needed a pig, I would go out to MacQueary's place, thank you very little." This both offended Gagger and Bonny. Bonny let her grip loose on Gagger. He took the opportunity to move a few feet away. Bonny stood there not knowing what to do with her empty hands. She turned around and opened the fridge. At that same moment Zone came running down the stairs. He was met with a roomful of sleeping grandmas to his right, an annoyed looking Reporter Sergeant, a cuckoled Detective Gagger and the angry passive-aggressive back of Bonny Sergeant rooting around in the fridge.
He said: "Whoa! What the hell did I miss?" Gagger took the opportunity to push past him and climbed up the stairs. Three steps at a time. Bonny noticed this and her shoulders slank. Her ego was broken. The reporter looked at Zone. She shrugged. She started to walk out the door. Zone followed her outside onto the porch for some reason. He knew better, but he did it anyway. He was intrigued, but also the tension inside was too much to take. He wished he had a cigarette. He didn't feel like rolling a pinner. He wondered why Gagger was so upset, but more than that, he wished that Gagger would have read his mind like normal and handed him his smokes before he stormed off up the stairs. Luckily, for Zone, the reporter took a pack of Virginia Slims out of some secret pocket of her very complicated outfit and handed one to Zone. Zone smiled.
The reporter said: "Don't get any ideas, Loadman." Zone took this as an opening. The tiny cigarette hanging from his lips like an erect pubic hair. The reporter, having lighted her Slim, was furiously sucking on it. She handed Zone the lighter. He lit the tiny thing. Sucking hard, but getting nearly nothing.
He said: "Look, I am sorry, I..."
The reporter said: "I am sorry too. I shouldn't have..." She licked her lips and scratched at her inner elbow. Cum drying on her arm. Her diamond bracelet out of place in this part of the world. They stood there in silence. Zone wasn't sure if it was attraction or not, but he also had this thing about being a detective that meant that he needed to get ahead of whatever the hell it was that this reporter was up to.
He said: "I know you know something, spill the beans." This helped. Reporter Sergeant spilled the beans.
She said: "Let me know, there was a murder up on Chickadee road? I know it, you just have to let me know. Someone local? A greenhouse or something? Gary Alone's place? It will get out, I hope you know that, it is best, I think if you just nip it in the bud now."
Zone said: "I know nothing. I mean, I understand where you are coming from, but I got nothing to give you. I suggest you go talk to that Captain Sergeant guy, your cousin, I suppose, he has all the details. I have no liberties at the moment."
The reporter said: "Typical. You guys are in town for this?" Zone thought about what she was asking. She must have understood that he was serious, that he wouldn't actually give her any information, but he knew she would glean something, irrespective of what he said to her. He collected his thoughts in a very political way. Making sure to not give the least bit of information.
He said: "No comment." The reporter smiled. She sucked a tiny drag from her tiny cigarette and blew it in Zone's face. Zone got hard. Down below. The reporter noticed. She took a business card out of her complicated outfit and handed it to Zone.
She said: "My number, should anything come up." Zone took the thing and nodded. She continued: "You taste like peaches by the way." Zone blushed. The reporter scurried down the steps. Her tight buns making bunny things. Zone stood there watching her go. He put the business card to his nose. He watched her drive away. She waved as she pulled out onto the road. Zone waved back. He didn't have it in him to go back inside to deal with the fallout from Bonny and Gagger, or what seemed like something harsh. Fucking Gagger. The guy was a menace to society. Zone took the Slim cigarette and the business card. He sat down in the same rocking chair he had been sitting in before, while drinking coffee and thinking about his future. He decided the cure was treating him pretty good at this point. The woodpecker started up again. Knocking wood. Zone nodded his approval.