My name ain't important. If it helps, call me Hamibal... er, Hannibal. [hic] That's what my friends call me.
So let's cut the chit-chat. My problem is that I drink. I'm a drunk - a functional drunk, but a drunk none-the-less. [winks]
I started drinking when Jane left me for some GQ faggot at her office (Jane's my ex-wife. Told you about her last week). Tell me sumthin. What-the-heck you supposed to do with the Ex's ring anyway? Answer me that. Bitch shoulda kept it. On her fucking salary, she and Matthew Maconau-Gay are gonna need it. [hic]
[pounds a cup of coffee]
Where was I? Yeah, so my wife left me. Shit happens, right. So I drank - a little at first, you know; just enough to take the sting out - and threw myself into my work. Ain't telling you my job, but rest assured, it's the best goddamn job there is. That was - shit! Has it been 10 years already?! [mumbles]"... worst mistake of yer life, Janey..." [hic]
Anyway, coupla weeks after the bitch leaves, I busted this guy for trafficking - guns, drugs - the usual... except for some weird pod-like things in the trunk of his car. They were green and sort of jiggled when you pointed a flashlight at 'em. Not my prob - Gish & Fame took that stuff. Fish & Game - just a little joke there, son.
Anyway, guy was a real bastard; thought he knew the law and liked flashing his cash around. You know the type. I didn't like him much. [hic] Can't recall, but seems he ran into my fist a few times during the arrest, so bozo decides to press charges, but lucky for me, cell mate kills him, Henry Winkler (what? no, that's not the cell mate, it's the guy's name, and he's not the Fonz, just some guy with the same name as the actor, understand?); anyway, he was killed with a sharpened toothbrush before the Judge reviewed the case. [hic] Killed with a toothbrush - heh - still think that's pretty funny. [smiles] Case got thrown out. I got a promotion.
I can't really say what happened after that. I mean, I CAN say, sure, but not sure I understand what happened, is happening. Kind of fuzzy, but got your pencil ready? This is the good part...
I swear to God, I started seeing the guy, Henry Winkler, the Fonz, the supposed-to-be-dead guy, all over the place. It was like he was following me. I tried to run him down twice, but he just disappear, er, disappeared. One time, I trapped him in a dead-end alley, but the fucker got away somehow. Thought I was losing my goddamn mind. But then, a few months later, my partner, Ned, he sees the guy too. When Ned called and told me, well, I just rushed right over to compare notes - finally a break. I relieved, you know?
Found Ned dead, in his boxers, green stuff oozing out of him - his eyes, his skin. It was disgusting. Like nothing I seen or heard about. I called 911 and lost my lunch. Haven't had a real meal since. [hic] When the meat-wagon finally showed up, Ned's body had degraded, decomposed, or something - it just became "goo". The official story is that Ned is "missing".
No no. Don't ask me about my mother or father. It ain't like that. I told you what happened. I ain't crazy. I know what I saw. My only mistake was telling people. Now I get to visit you fucking people every week.
Anyway, like I said, that was five years ago. Lost three more partners since then; Charles, Dave, Marjorie, all of them "missing" too, all good agents, good officers. People "know" something weird is happening, but they won't open their eyes. Truth is too hard. And, me. Well, I know the truth. That's why I drink. Think my chief knows I'm a drunk, but he let's it slide. We go way back. He jus calls me eccentric and keeps the official complaints in his top drawer. [chuckles] No one wants to be ol' Han's partner anymore. Can't blame em.
It's just as well, cause about two years after Winkler, a spook group approached me. Spook? It means "undocumented". Let's call em the Green Meanies for conversations sake - a group concerned with Winkler and a bunch of other strange crap. They had a file on Pod People from Out Space - can't really talk about it...
What you writing? Think I'm paranoid, huh? Delusional? Whatever. Go ahead and shut your eyes and make your little notes, but I belong now. The Green Meanies don't think I'm crazy. In my circle, my knowledge and views count for something. [young male psychologist keeps writing] Arg. You look like a fucking intern to me anyway. Let me tell you sumthing [hic] mister Ivey League, mister Melrose Place, that Winkler character is STILL out there [points indistinctly out the window]. He still pops up now and again. [belches a bourbon-like aroma and manifest a "far away" stare] Sometimes I see him ousside my house - watching, bidding his time until he's broken me, killed me or, hell [laughs], just gets tired of the game. Don't know - can't know I guess. Call it morbid curiosity, but I keep looking over my shoulder, hoping for answers and not finding any.
Look. I hate to cut this short, but I gotta run to my car for, ah, some tic-tacs. You need anything from the vending machine? [hic]
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1 comment:
Good for people to know.
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