TITLE: Breeding Grounds
GENRE: Adult Literary
Eight o’clock in the g**damn morning, blueblood cold outside and someone was downstairs banging on the barroom door. I’d been working the Walleye for going on ten years, and my ears were like my own personal Emergency Broadcast System. I still had drool on my cheek, but I opened up my window anyway and had a look.
It was the Little Sergeant of all people, smashing his knuckles into a bloody pulp. He’d been around long enough to know the Walleye wasn’t open until noon on Sundays. The church ladies would have a hissy fit. And, after waiting on a bunch of stinky old fishermen till 2a.m., so would I.
He stopped banging, looked up at me and yelled, “Police, Open Up! Police!”
“No kidding,” I said and slammed the window shut. Like my week wasn’t shitty enough already. I grabbed my robe, lit a cigarette, and opened up the window again.
“What seems to be the trouble Officer Alvarez?”
He really didn’t like it when I called him “Officer” but he hated being called the “Little Sergeant” worse, and when I saw his face, I was glad as hell I didn’t call him that. You know, I always figured you could find one redeeming quality in just about anybody. But the only thing I ever really liked about Little Joe was that, for all the ribbing he took, he seemed to stay harmless, like he was self-contained, a man in his own mind.