By: Kidman J. Williams
It was around 1PM when Woody and I woke up in a post-drunken haze on my couch. I was awakened by the sadistic ramblings of Rachael Ray blaring through the speakers of my 55 inch plasma screen. Woody had been stirring for a minute or two and then gradually opened his eyes to Ray showing us how to make some potato mash that looked like something thrown up the night before. Woody looked at me with a sad look on his face, “Would you fuck her?”
I looked up at the TV screen one more time. I gave a long blurry gaze at the pseudo chef as her perky ramblings sliced through my brain as if I was in a prison movie cafeteria and the toothbrush shiv was stuck through the bottom of my neck. “I’d probably hate-fuck her,” I answered with what I could only figure was a shocking answer for the more reserved Woody.
Woody’s face just drooped and his eyebrows rose up. “What is a hate-fuck?”
“You’ve never heard of hate-fucking?”
“No, what is it?”
“How can I explain this? Hate-fucking is when you despise a person so much that you just don’t know what else to do but fuck the hate out of the uncomfortable relationship!” Woody’s eyes got wider, “Take Rachael Ray, I find her attractive when the mute button is on, but I would rather have my balls tied to the horns of a raging bull than to have an actual conversation with the woman.”
Hesitant to ask, Woody did, “So, what comes with hate-fucking?”
“The usual,” I said with confidence, “A little light spanking, degrading words exchanged and of course no eye contact whatsoever! That is pretty important for a successful hate-fuck. It has to stay purely animal. If there is continuous eye contact it just ruins everything.”
Woody’s face just dropped, seemingly disgusted by the notion that you could have sex with someone that you really don’t like. He just sat there silent for the next half hour as if his whole moral outlook had been destroyed.
I downed my second cup of high butane coffee and decided that it was time to mosey over to the computer screen for the next round of terrifying news for the day. As I scrolled through the headlines of Tamir Rice, Ferguson and more about the wage wars; I had found a little blurb about Illinois Senate Bill 1342. “Well, what in green Hell is this?”
Woody heard me, because I apparently said that out loud, “What is what?”
“SHUT UP you dumb bunny! I don’t know.”
Woody slumped down for a second and grabbed another cigarette. The article that I was reading started with a thunderous revelation.
“The Amendment to Senate Bill 1342 was introduced on Tuesday, December 2nd. This Bill will make it a felony charge to record audio or video any police officer.”
“I asked you not to call me that anymore. My name is Barry,” he glared at me with intent. “Why do you call me that?”
“Mainly, because you’re as dumb as a stump of wood. Secondly, I know it pisses in your Cheerios. Never mind that though! This new bill is going to allow these shitheads to put journalists, civilians and anyone else that they want behind bars if they record a police officer!
There isn’t any real limit to the law either! They are letting the person determine whether it is private enough or not! Can you believe this!?!”
“So, what does that mean?”
“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!?!” I snapped back. “Do you really not get this?”
“Well n—“
“That was a rhetorical question Woody.”
Woody let out a bass filled, throaty chuckle. I looked at him for a second with a bewildering eye, but only one! The other was firmly on the bill pulled up on the computer. “Man, this bill passed the House with a wild abandoning of the U.S. Constitution. This fucking thing passed 106 – 7 in the House and 46 – 4 – 1 in the Senate! Basically you crumpet, that means that the Dems and the Republican crotch suckers are ALL in on this!”
“Why would you say that?”
“You don’t win with that kind of margin without both sides agreeing. Like I told you before, the danger in Ferguson had nothing to do with the shooting; it had to do with what the law was allowed to get away with. They showed the rest of the country that they don’t have to fear the public; the public has to fear them. Once you open a door like that it locks behind you and you can’t go back! Do you get it now?”
“Really Kidman, I thought you were just talking out of your ass when you said that shit.”
All I could do was give him a look of contempt and went back to the actual bill. The part that caught my attention the most was around the beginning:
“(b) Eavesdropper.
An eavesdropper is any person, including any law
enforcement officer and any party to a private conversation
officers, who is a principal, as defined in this Article, or
who operates or participates in the operation of any
eavesdropping device contrary to the provisions of this Article
or who acts as a principal, as defined in this Article.
(c) Principal.
A principal is any person who:
(1) Knowingly employs another who illegally uses an
eavesdropping device in the course of such employment; or
(2) Knowingly derives any benefit or information from
the illegal use of an eavesdropping device by another; or
(3) Directs another to use an eavesdropping device
illegally on his or her behalf.”
I took a real notice to the simple and seemingly harmless word of “employs.” This only meant a couple of things to me…journalists, police. I’m sure in some twisted logic they meant others with that too, but who can really say for sure; I hate lawyer talk!
“I don’t get it.”
“Trust me; I already knew that. Just hit the bowl again.”
As Woody took a big heaping inhale from the bowl, I started to put it all together. “I might have pieced this all together Woody!” I screamed so loud that Woody dropped the roasting bowl and it burnt a small hole in the space rug. I started feverishly reading about Jane Byrne’s death. “Boogity, boogity! Do you think they could have?”
“What?!?” Woody yelled.
“Do you think it is possible?” I yelped back into the air.
Another website wrote that Jane Byrne had died from “complications” from a stroke that she had suffered back in 2013. It was also a well-known fact that Byrne wasn’t the most liked in certain circles of the Illinois political circus; it wouldn’t shock me that these heartless greedy pignuts would hire an expert to destroy her. She was already old and her health was shaky enough to not raise any eyebrows.
I thought to myself that it could have gone down so easily. A faceless tall man slinks into her home. He slides his hand up the banister of the stairs, being sure to place weight on that side as to not creak one of the stairs. As he slithers down the hallway he enters Jane’s room.
She was asleep, so peaceful; not a care in the world. Then the man reached into his pocket and injects her with amphetamines, because who is going to check an 81 year old woman with bad health for drugs. I wouldn’t, the coroner wouldn’t have ordered it, and they knew it. Then she doesn’t feel good. What do you do when you don’t feel well? You go to the hospital and bite the big one with what could only be suspected as “complications” from a stroke; pretty ingenious.
“Do you think the political powers hired an expert to kill her?” I asked in a panic.
Woody looked at me with a strange look and not his usual empty one, “Now you’re just talking crazy man.”
***
I kept reading as if my life was being threatened by the very politicians who thought this bill was a good idea. Then I came across the consequences of breaking this law. It stated:
“(a) Eavesdropping, for a first offense, is a Class 4 felony (from Ch. 38, par. 14-4) and, for a second or subsequent offense, is a Class 3 felony. (b) The eavesdropping of an oral conversation or an electronic communication of between any law enforcement officer, State’s Attorney, Assistant State’s Attorney, the Attorney General, Assistant Attorney General, or a judge, while in the performance of his or her official duties, if not authorized by this Article or proper court order, is a Class 3 felony, and for a second or subsequent offenses, is a Class 2 felony 1 felony.”
Woody just kept watching television as I went through the facts of this abomination. I finally came across the number for the Governor’s office. I sat and thought for a minute about what I might say when I got through.
I’ll tell them; “Look you pompous taint Nazis, you better strike this fucker from the table. If you don’t the feds will probably come crashing down on your nuts like a drone attack. Believe me! Those fuckers won’t miss and before you know it, they will choke out our economy and Illinois will look like Detroit!”
That sounded great in my head so I went on to make the call. “Governor’s office…what can I help you with?”
I cleared my throat and got ready, “This is Kidman and I write for Gonzo Today, amongst other publications and I’d like to…”
Before I could even get into the performance I had rehearsed in my head, she cut me off. “Is this about Senate Bill 1342?”
She caught me off guard. She wasn’t a heinous bitch like some of the other political office girls. She had an endearing voice, almost soothing like a Goddess or a phone sex operator. I stuttered a little bit and as confidently as I could, I replied with a little, “Well…yeah!”
“You have not been the only one on top of this bill. I have taken call after call on this matter. Governor Quinn will know about this.”
“Are you a phone sex operator on the side?”
“What the fuck? Thank you for your call.” As she hung up I could hear her faintly say, “What a dick.”
***
It was about 8 o’ clock on the car’s clock and we were on our way to a little hole-in-the-wall bar that I love to frequent. It seemed to me that the weed was wearing off on the both of us. I started to think more about the implications of the amendment, and I didn’t like the things that were going through my weed soaked head. It was bringing on the Fear.
I heard Woody moving in his seat. The street lights gave his long face a very dramatic shadow over his face. I looked over as he was staring at me. Woody opened his mouth after a ten minute silence,
“I would probably hate-fuck The Dixie Chicks.”
“All of them?”
“Hell yeah at once! Who would you, besides Rachael Ray?”
I had to think about this for as second. We were running at 75 miles per hour down I355 North.
“I’d totally hate-fuck Chelsea Clinton.”
Woody let out that throaty grunt of a laugh, “Why Chelsea?!? Why wouldn’t you just take Hilary?”
“Hilary would be no good. The whole time I’d be trying to hate-fuck her she’d be hate-fucking me to get to good old Bill. It would be a revenge thing. I need it to stay pure. Hate-fucking Chelsea would get to Hilary by association. I’d actually be getting a three in one shot, because you know Bill would be pissed.”
“That’s pretty sadistic.”
“Now that you are saying something about it, I’d probably hate-fuck Christine Radogno too!”
“Why is that?”
“She is a State Senator for Illinois and a Republican. So you know she voted for the 1342 bill to go through. And you know what else I’d do?”
“No, what?”
“I’d video tape it before the law got signed in, HA, ho, HO!”
***
We got to the Squirrel Cage and walked into the dreary bar. There were young girls huddled up in the corner dancing, you had your overly testosteroned men slamming shots and of course the old men hugging their beers talking about better days.
I used to think that these older rag tag drunks were the equivalent of the zany characters on the street corner wearing tinfoil hats. Now, I started to think that they might be on to something that the rest of us never thought of.
The old man that I sat next to was scraggly and worn-out looking. He was wearing the working man’s flannel shirt. He was hunched over his can of Hamm’s half talking to himself as he gazed at the TV. The news was reporting another story of law enforcement abuse. He turned his head towards me. He was half looking over his shoulder like he was sizing me up. “Hey there young man! Have you seen this shit on TV?”
“Yes sir.”
“I used to be a cop.” He looked back down at his beer for a second with a sullen look on his face. “I retired about 10 years ago. We all saw this horseshit comin’!”
“What?”
“All of this shit! Are you not listening?”
“You haven’t really said much.”
“I’m talking about these young dickheads being hired into the force. They have no fucking morals and they have no fucking common sense in their stupid heads.” He banged his strong, aged fist down to the bar with purpose and intent. “These new kids are fucking idiots. They have no business being Peace Officers.”
“Because…they don’t stand for peace?” I asked with the intent of an answer. The whole bar looked back, taking notice at the angry man as he yelled and slammed his fist down again with commanding authority.“
“FUCK NO THEY DON’T!”
Woody gave me a look from the corner of the bar where he was chatting up some sexy little blonde. I shot him a look to let him know that everything was fine. I looked back at the elderly retiree as he put his paw on my shoulder and gently gave me the news, “They are training these animals ya know.”
“They are?”
“They are training these animals to start shit up.”
I leaned in a little closer to him and spoke with a secrecy in my voice, “Start what up exactly?”
He whipped his hand off of me, threw his arms back and slammed the bar top again screaming,
“WAR GODDAMNIT!”
The old man grabbed the attention of the whole bar, including the bouncer. The thick-necked mouth breather came over to us and told the old timer, “Time to go Rick. I already called your cab and he is sitting out there.”
The bouncer helped him up and escorted him out the door. As he walked Rick out the door I looked around for Woody. I scanned the bar, but there was no sign of him anywhere in the place. I signaled the bartender over. He came over to me and asked, “What can I get you?”
“Nothing right now. Did you see a tall gangly guy with a long face and a dumb look leave?”
He giggled a little bit, “No.”
I figured what the Hell. I sat and watched the hockey game that the barkeep put on the TV and settled back for a great game.
***
I was sitting at the bar for about a hour and three glasses of Makers Mark, half watching the game and the other half contemplating what that former cop was talking about. I was putting the freshly poured fourth glass to my lips when I got a slap on top of my shoulder by Woody. I looked over my shoulder, mad as hell.
“Sorry man, did I spill your drink?” He asked with a toothy grin.
“You smiling is actually making me more pissed-off! For that I want a glass of Elijah Craig!”
“Come on.”
“NO! Fuck you dippy! You spilled my glass and it hit me in the tooth.”
“Fine.”
“You’re damn right its fine.” I gave him a light sack tap; just enough to catch his attention.
Woody waved his hand to get the bartender’s attention, “Can I get a glass of that Elijah Craig on the rocks?” He leaned back over to me, “I know you saw that girl I was talking to right?”
“Yeah, I saw her. Hot little thing.”
“Exactly! I was talking to her and as we were talking I realized just how dumb and mean she was as a person.”
“For you to call someone dumb she MUST have been…”
Woody shook his head with a stunned look, “I know right! Anyways, I had sex with her in her car. I hated the shit out of her, but I did it! I get hate-fucking now.”
I chuckled into my fresh glass of bourbon, “That’s good man. I’m super happy for you. This calls for a shot! Barkeep! I need two shots of Rum.”
We took down the shots like two old pros when I happened to look back up at the TV. I saw that the Blackhawks got scored on and I let out a boisterous, “Fucking bullshit!”
Woody was looking over his shoulder at the girl with a cautious face. I asked, “What is wrong?”
“Do you see that guy over there arguing with her?”
As I turned to look, Woody firmly whispered, “Don’t look over there. I think he knows that she cheated on him.”
“Wait a fucking minute,” I had to gather my thought for a moment of pause and reflection, “You knew she had a boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“Was that a part of the disgust for her?”
Woody looked up with his eyes for a second before answering, “Yeah. She was hot and a horrible person; how could I say no.”
“By saying no you fucking moron! Now you have a guy over there pissed-off and trying to figure out what is going on. If she is as horrible as you say, she will tell him. Then point you out.”
“I didn’t think about that.”
“You don’t think at all! I know that, you know that; even your penis knows that! That’s why he takes advantage of you every time he gets the chance.”
We sat and drank our drinks fairly quickly before the himbo/bimbo situation blew up in Woody’s blank face. It wasn’t helping our predicament that Woody looked over his shoulder every thirty seconds with sheer fear.
Then it happened. It was like a scene in a movie where the men are standing in the street at high noon. They draw their guns in slow motion so the audience doesn’t miss one detail in the faces. The pretty girl pointed right at Woody and in slow motion he let out one grand and fear filled fart. It smelled like a dead carcass roasting in the summer sun. I don’t know if he thought it was going to help his situation to practically poop himself, but I had to take three steps back.
The scorned boyfriend came right up to Woody; he pulled back his muscularly cut arm and WHAM! He threw a right cross that spun Woody’s whole head. His body followed suit and his face hit the edge of the bar with an ugly solid sound. He was getting ready to hit Woody again as he slid down the bar to the floor when I noticed the bouncer trying to make his way to them. The bouncer wasn’t going to make it to them before Woody took some serious damage. I set my drink down and I gave the man one sharp shot to his eye socket. I watched him fall on top of Woody.
I had just enough time to feel good about my sucker punch when I was tackled from behind by the bartender. We both tumbled to the ground and I saw the bouncer grab poor Woody and the boyfriend coldly. He took them out the door one by one through the aluminum screened door. The bartender started to escort me out. He stopped at the door and asked, “Why did you hit him?”
“I had to, your bouncer was slow.”
The bouncer looked at me and gave me a hearty fuck you. When I got outside Woody and the boyfriend were talking together. As I walked up Woody looked very apologetic about the situation. The boyfriend, whose anger had turned into mourning, asked Woody, “How could you do that? How could you have sex with a girl that you knew had a boyfriend?”
Woody gave him a simple reply, “I found her to be a horrible person and I guess I did it just because I could.”
I looked at them both and I understood everything. Everything from the law, to the cops beating on people, and even the old ex-cop Rick. I understood it all. Woody and the boyfriend kept talking and getting along, as well as they could.
Sex was obviously a factor in the decision; much like control is the motivator with all of the brutality, but what I could really see was that they seem to do it, simply because they can. Not much more than that. If someone was there to say no; maybe they wouldn’t? It would just take one person of real power to put a stop to the greedy rabid hyenas like Governor Nixon or Officer Daniel Pantaleo.
These people that are in charge right now seem to be able to hate-fuck the American public and unlike Woody; nobody has punched these guys back into reality. At least not yet…
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