Writers Block
J. Swaney
I slam on the brakes. My chair almost wheels out from underneath me. The blockade flashes at me. A yellow barrier with black accusing stripes. My guts roll over. I am busted, again.
“Ok, we've got you now."
"Just move real slow and no one will get hurt."
" Slowly, put your pencil down."
"Keep your hands where we can see them."
"Move away from the key board."
I followed the instructions. I laid the pencil down and began to rise. In order to keep anyone from getting too excited I rolled my chair back about four feet before I did so. My interior monologue screaming, 'F**k ! Why wasn't I watching ?' I should have seen the flashing lights. How long have the b******s been on to me ? '
"That's right, nice and easy now."
"Slowly drop to your knees, easy, easy now."
"Ok, very good now just lay forward, that's right, right down on your face."
The police came forward. They swarmed like wasps disturbed in their nests. They wern't there and then they were. One holding my head, and one on each arm, two more on my legs. Arms twisted and forced behind my back, cuffs biting into my wrists.
“That f*****g hurts Man!” I groaned through my pain and bondage. “I'm not even resisting.”
-In the interrogation room-
“People like you make me sick !” shouted the fat balding detective. I sat in the hard wooden chair, under the hot light. One hand cuffed to the chair. A cup of lukewarm Folgers instant coffee, and a single Cambridge Ultra Light 100 smouldering in the ashtray.
“You've got the cable. I've seen the bill. But ooooooh nooooooooo, Mr Swaney wants more. Home Improvement, isn't enough. It's the funniest thing I've ever seen. I just love it when he does that grunt. And what about That 70's show, how can Fez not be enough for you. We have gone to great expense to entertain and amuse you. Look at Lifetime Television, five minutes of some story about how her Stepfather is an ax murderer but no one believes her. And then some suggestions for perscriptions you should ask your doctor for to keep your hair in and make your dick hard whenever you want. We give you satellite radio, DVD's two for $12.99 at Blockbuster. And the internet full of every pornographic perversion you could ever dream of. And still you want more, you selfish non-conforming son-of-a-b***h.”
“Oh, we're onto you."
"You and you're group of creative friends" 'We think differently, we're speeeeeecial, look at our poems and stories.'”
As the cop mimicked me, a single drop of sweat rolled down the side of his cheek.
Suddenly the old bull almost leaped over the table and bunching my shirt in his hand shouted in my face.
“Don't you get it ! No one gives two s***s about your stories and poems. The world has moved on and now we will tell you what to think and how to feel. FHM will tell you what women are sexy, Nissan will tell you what cars are cool, The GAP will tell you what looks nice, Target will hypnotize you with swirls and pop-music, to show you that they are in and Wal-Mart is out. They paid for this right. Your friends must use Verizon, your employer will choose your health insurance. All you have to do, all your supposed to do is go to work, keep the f*****g lights on, and choose a news channel. We will take care of all the rest."
Three hours later,
I am released.
They can't decide what to charge me with.
I am unforgiven.
I am unforgotten.
The bust has worn me down.
I won't write anymore today.
J.
09/06