Sorry Guys...There's no audio clip for this one. I hope I was descriptive enough to assist to you guys in using your imagination. Ha. Here's Act 4.
Turbulent Seed Dark Justice
Act 4: On Bushel Street
I smell the aroma of fresh coffee and doughnuts as I enter Vince’s Café House. Willis and I are greeted with the sweet sounding oldies form the fifties and sixties. The good music…Not the kind of music artists release now-a-days and wanna’ call it good music. The tables are neatly set and the regulars are seated where they are always seated every time I come in. I guess that’s why I like this place. The element of change is almost nonexistent. This seems to be the only place untouched by this cities degradation.
Willis and I take our seats at the back of the café where we usually sit. I pick up the news paper from the checkered table to read the head lines. Predictable…It’s always the same. More coverage on the rapes, murders, riots. It has become such a way of life in this city that no one seem to care about making the situation better. Willis grabs the menu…predictable…I ask myself why does he take the menu when he always orders the same thing; black coffee, hazelnut doughnut, and a bacon and eggs sandwich with a little ranch sauce on top. I lift my head up from the newspaper and catch the waitress coming over to our table, our eyes meet and she gives us a wave, followed by a friendly smile. Chelsea…the waitress’ name is Chelsea. As predicted Willis orders the same meal. Before I could start speaking, Chelsea spoke the words I was about to speak…“Latté, with a Boston Cream doughnut, and a turkey salad sandwich.” I nodded. Chelsea gave the big grin she usually gives and disappeared in the back to fulfill the orders. “I think she likes you Gabe,” I heard Willis say. I ponder over his statement for a moment and review in my mind several of her flirtatious actions in the past that I didn’t care to read into or even give a second thought. I tried changing the subject and ask Willis. “Do you think that our city will ever enjoy having pro sports team again?” “Not a chance, he replies…This city is too far gone.” I miss the good ol’ days.
My ears once again tune into the sweet music as I hear the sounds of Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack. I glance at the widow beside us viewing the dreary city streets. I pretend that the streets were once again safe. I pretend that we once again had a system that can be fully trusted. Then I hear it, that inevitable voice over the CB. I hear the sirens in the distance now. The voice over the CB directs our attention to Bushel Street. I glance over at Willis and give him the same head gesture I always give when the CB goes off. Chelsea returned with our orders in time, but this is a meal to go…and fast.
Bushel Street. The red-light district of this now pathetic city: I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Crime rate more than tripled in the past year. The murders, rapes, riots, robberies…they all keep climbing. We even have preschoolers in the midst of some of these crimes. It sickens me beyond disgust. This is what I wake up to every day. This is the life of this once great city. My job is starting to seem meaningless. After Harrison and two other officers were found as corrupts a little while back I became wary of those I surrounded myself with…almost to the point of paranoia. But this is my job…to serve and protect the “innocent”. Classified as an “A” class Officer, I think I’m loosing my wits.
We approach Bushel Street, watching as the prostitutes, and drug dealers linger with false innocence. The ambulance haven’t arrived yet, only 2 other cop cars plus ours.
This is ridiculous, I thought to myself as I approached the deceased body, in the middle of the road. This was an obvious hit and run. I smell alcohol all over him. I almost choke by the stench of his body odour mixed with the alcohol. “Samuels”, I hear a voice call. It was Officer Polanski. He called me over to brief me on what he already found out, and to have me speak to an eye witness. I left Willis to continue to assess the dead body. The witness mentioned that the deceased was with a female before he stumbled into the street. “A prostitute,” I asked. “She sure as hell was. She’s the new bitch that came around here earlier trying to steal all our business,” the witness replied. After speaking with the witness for some minutes more, I find out that the mystery lady was looking for a man named Shakespeare, the notorious pimp and drug dealer, and a key ingredient to Ice’s organization. According to the witness’s reports, the mystery lady deliberately pushed the man in the midst of moving traffic. This buzzes my nerves. It some how makes no sense to me. Why assist in the death of a pathetic, but innocent man. It’s now become clear to me that Shakespeare needs to be dug out of his hole. I return over to the body in the middle of the street and notice that the right breast pocket on his jacket was loosened. It was buttoned when I observed it earlier. I quickly dismiss the thought. Willis is thorough, I tell myself. Bushel Street. God knows it’s dirtier than the filth in the sewers of hell. I look up at the night sky that once again, blankets the city.