From: gooley@netcom.com (Mark. Gooley)
Subject: found on alt.prose
Date: Tue, 21 Jul 92 00:25:14 GMT
Organization: Netcom - Online Communication Services  (408 241-9760 guest) 
Summary: vicious and unwarranted attack
Followup-To: alt.prose.d,alt.fan.gooley

From a story posted to alt.prose:

>      That evening there was a knocking at the door.
>      "Someone get that!" Danielle called out. She glanced around but
>her house was empty. Only moments before her brother and mother and father
>and sister had all been there, watching TV, but now there were all gone.
>She noticed that the TV was gone too, and in its place was an army
>helmet that had "Born to Kill" written on it.
>      She got up from the bed and stepped over the fishtank and opened
>the door.
>      Two police officers stood there, staring at her. "Danielle?"
>      "Yes," Danielle said.
>      "You are under arrest for the murder of Tom, the basketball Captain."
       "Not Tom, Tom, the piper's son?" asked Danielle.
       The other policeman snickered.  "That's not funny," said the one
 who'd spoken before, but there was a twinkle in his eye.
>      They put handcuffs on her and led her into the car.
>
>      On the highway, one of the officers turned back to Danielle and
>said, "Who do you think you are?"
>      She just looked at him blankly.
>      "I said," he yelled, "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"
>      Danielle said nothing.
>      "You just don't go and poison a basketball Captain! This happens
>to be Texas. You think you can pull that stuff in Texas? A bratty little
>snot-nosed kid like you tries and pulls a bratty little snot-nosed stunt
>like that? Who's supposed to lead the basketball team now that Tom
>is dead?"
       "Wait," said the other policeman.  "This here's Texas!  You just
 said so."
       "Yeah, it's Texas," said the first one.  "So?"
       "Here in Texas, Bill, we don't give a shit about tall skinny-assed
 wimps who play basketball," said the other policeman.
       "By damn, Jim," said the first, "you're sure as hell right.  That's
 for those Indiana assholes and those big-city coons.  It's football we're
 crazy about here."
       "I think you owe this pretty little lady an apology," said Jim.
 "That Tom, he didn't even try out for football.  And while you're at
 it, you can apologize to the African-American readers for calling them
 `coons,'"
       Bill looked contrite.  "I'm real sorry I said those things to you,
 Miss Danielle," he said to her, and to nobody in particular he added,
 "and I'm sorry I said `coons,' but in places like Texas us police are
 supposed to be mindless bigots and I was just trying to stay in character."
 Then he said to Danielle,  "What'd you poison him for, anyway?"
       "He...raped me,"
>                       Danielle said in a small voice. She felt terribly
>guilty.
       In the rear-view mirror she was Jim's kindly, sympathetic look.
 "You poor kid," he said.  "That goddam basketball-playing shit."
       "Doesn't surprise me none," said Bill.  "These kids hear about
 Magic Johnson and that other guy, whatsisname, and they think they can
 have any woman they want.  Turn the car around, Jim."
       "Take her home and let her go?"
       "Yeah," said Bill.  "We'll explain things to the commissioner,
 talk with the sheriff and the coroner, save the trouble and expense of
 a trial."
       "Good idea," said Jim.  "Don't you worry 'bout a thing, Miss
 Danielle."
       "Th-there was another one," Danielle stammered.  "He raped me
 first, then let Tom do it."  She broke down and started to cry.
       Jim pulled over.  Bill got out, went into the back seat, unlocked
 and took off her handcuffs, and hugged her.  "There, there," he said,
 tenderly.  "We'll waste that little bastard ourselves."
       "He said his name was John," sobbed Danielle.
>["H]e hissed, furious[ly], [and h]is warm smile was gone and [I] saw
>only a brutal monster.["]
       "Warm smile that disappears to reveal only a brutal monster,"
 said Bill.  "Sound familiar, Jim?"  He held the trembling Danielle
 more tightly for a moment.
       "Yeah, I know the little shit she's talking about," said Jim.
 "Another fucking basketball player.  Johnny Scheisskopf, you know who I
 mean."  He patted Danielle's head paternally and gave her his spare
 handkerchief, which was worn but very clean.  She blew her nose on it.
       "He jogs a couple miles every morning on the Old Flatusburg road,"
 said Bill.  A triumphant grin spread over his gruff features.  "Jimbo,
 you thinking what I'm thinking?"
       "Yup," said Jim.  "I could charm old Velma into cooking the duty
 roster."
       "Another fatal and unsolved hit-and-run," said Bill.  "Tsk tsk tsk.
 Can't us dumb cops solve any case these days?"
       Danielle giggled hysterically.  "You're not really going to do
 that!"
       "Little lady," said Bill, "you didn't hear this conversation, you
 got that?  Just like you didn't poison Tom, okay?"

       They drove her home, and I submit that this is no more absurd
 than the original:

>      "Pull over," the cop said to the other cop, who was driving.
>      The cops pulled over.
>     They took Danielle from the car and led her into the desert, past
>a wooden sign with bright red letters that said TRUST. She looked up at
>the sky but saw nothing there.
>      "You can't kill a man, little lady," the cop said. He put his gun
>to her head and pulled the trigger. Danielle's head was blown apart and
>her body slumped to the sandy ground.
>      The other cop started laughing. "That there little lady's got guts,
>huh?"
>       "Shut up, Marvin," the first cop said as he put his gun back in
>the holster. "There's nothing funny about it."

Mark., oh, yes, there is something funny about it
gooley@netcom.com




Somehow you manage to do t.b a favor and post this story.  This story gets
a 9/10 on the t.b scale.  Of corse you didn't write it, it's bizarre.

Article 25898 of talk.bizarre: