Have what Scott Johnson calls an Elliott story... Thirty years ago I got a call of a domestic disturbance on the east side. It was night and there were four of us on. I pulled up and hear a woman screaming and a man yelling. I go in the house and there is a man and woman in the front room . The woman has been mistreated. I step between them and entered my investigative mode. See whenever you enter a house you try to catalogue threats in case it becomes prudent to shoot your way out. You also try to locate at risk folks like kids. There was a little kid in the room with us and I did get her to stand with mommy. But mostly you concentrate on the crazy asshole foaming at the mouth. I didnt get to say much before said asshole lunged to the wall to pull down his shotgun. I was right behind him and hit him twice in the head with my flash light (I think it was my flashlight even though I hated hitting with it). Blood flew and I painted the ceiling with a perfect V . I got a statement from the woman and had the guy taken to the ER and made a really funny Jake story out of the incident. (Read the book) Well I have been transporting folks for the sheriff for very little money and shits and grins. I found out the exact date of this incident thirty years ago. I spent two hours in a van taking a woman to a mental health facility. We talked for a few minutes and I played the music on my phone (I have two hours worth that plugs into the radio. When we got where we were going she told me she was xxxxx daughter and that she had hated me for years. I knew the name but had forgotten he was the guy I had hit . She explained to me he had tried to get a gun to shoot me and I had hit him twice. She had been five. I remembered, well that certainly sounds like me. I said, I am sorry you have a bad memory about me. How is your dad? He died four years ago, cancer Oh sorry. I said. Dont be he made our life a living hell. He really suffered before he died. It made up for some of it. Now I am thinking this was not what I expected. I am sorry. I told your mom to call. I hated you for hitting my dad. When he came home I started hating you for letting him come home. I am not sorry that I didnt hit him harder. I laughed. You aint suppose to be but it would have been better if you had.
Posted on: Wed, 05 Nov 2014 00:38:37 +0000
Trending Topics
© 2015