Conversation · Idiot Doom Spiral

Oh yeah, that's totally your style...

The lieutenant's brow is furrowed. He's listening as casually as he can.

"Please, continue."

"It was a late Saturday night, when we, the Union of Moribund Alcoholics, were getting our drink on. Nothing remarkable about this, we get our drink on 24/7. Makes everything warm and glowy, I trust you know the feeling."

Oh yes, you do, bratushka. The only thing better than that is pushing the pedal to the metal after you kiss the tie. And off we go...

"One moment we hear the sound of a motor carriage revving up somewhere on the plaza, followed by a series of dings and bangs."

Do you remember the sound of wood cracking? The billboard...

"Naturally, loud noises pique the interest of anybody owning a pair of ears. That's just the reality we're in."

"Uhm.. I want to get off this story-train right now."

You can't get off now.

You have to stay.

The throttle is jammed and the brakeman's nowhere to be seen! There's no getting off this ride!

"I think that we should let him continue with the story."

"That's right! I let you finish all of your stories that night."

"Anyway, there was a brief silence -- a gasp of silence, if you will -- followed by a real commotion. We heard the carriage careening towards the coast at top speed."

"Sounded like someone jumped the canal. We grabbed our brewskies and rushed to the jetty -- never underestimate the speed of an alcoholic..."

Three men are standing on a wooden platform extending out from the shore of a dilapidated fishing village, their cheeks red, spirits high, beers in hand, eyes glazed over.

"What we saw was a sight to behold. A beat up police carriage, containing you. Right there on the beach. You revved the engine and screamed at the top of your lungs..."

"'THE TIME HATH COME.'"

"So, naturally, being the curious cat I am, I asked what time hath come, to which you replied..."

"THE TIME HATH COME FOR TEQUILA SUNSET. THE END OF ALL THINGS."

Say nothing. It's more dignified that way.

"After which your reality contracted -- you jammed the pedal, ploughed right off the jetty and through the ice."

The muscles in your right leg tense up.

Your hands cramp on the steering levers.

"We ran towards the ice, whilst you crawled your way out, miraculously unhurt -- covered in seaweed and shit. Like some kind of sea monster."

"When we finally got there you were sitting on the beach, crying. You said that your badge and uniform were in the car. It was too late to get in there though, the carriage had sunk too deep."

In this way, you and your motor carriage have a lot in common.

"Recognizing a brother in need, we offered our condolences and invited you to party with us, which you naturally agreed to..."

What else was there to do? Thank you brothers, for your helping hand.

"We asked about the whole Tequila Sunset thing, and you told us it was your name now and insisted that we all call you that from then on."

"My real name is Harry."

"No, that's just what your mother called you. Your real name is Tequila Sunset. Just embrace it, brother."

"How long did we party for?"

"Hours. It was an all-night drink-a-thon. Then at some point -- I think it was Sunday morning -- you got belligerent and wanted to talk about Revacholian women."

"How they're beautiful and also whores and so on. How one of them fucked you real bad. After a short while you crossed the event horizon, looked sullen, got up, and left without saying anything."

"Wow. That's quite a story."

"Yeah, I bet Tequila's a fucking legend around the precinct. You must be proud to work with him."

"If you only knew."

"Did you get a read on what kind of cop I was?"

"You kept calling yourself a 'goddamn superstar' who'd cleared '501 cases'..."

As you've already determined, the actual number is 216 -- but what's a little embellishment between friends?

"'No thanks to the squares at the precinct', as you put it."

As you've already determined, the actual number is just over 200 -- but what's a little embellishment between friends?

"You kept apologizing for being such a bad cop and for the damage you've inflicted on everyone around you..."

"You also kept pausing to knock the heel of your hand against your temples, saying 'Stupid, stupid, stupid.'"

"You kept telling us that in your work you've seen a lot of blood but that it's nothing compared to the 'Great Bloodletting' to come..."

"I believe you mentioned something about the ground cracking open to swallow cities and dreams alike. Yeah... I remember that simile or whatever the fuck they are."

"You said being a cop was real boring and that there was no reason to talk about it." He shrugs.

"You also kept pausing to knock the heel of your hand against your temples, saying 'Boring, boring, boring.'"

"Mostly you kept shouting 'I am The Law' and talking about how you were going to bring the law to all lawless places with your law jaw."

"Nothing much, you didn't want to talk about it. You just kept mumbling inaudibly to yourself."

"Did I say anything about the case?"

"Yeah, you said it was 'no biggie' and that you'd solve it in no time." He takes a strong quaff of his beer. "And that you didn't need anyone to do it. You're doin' it solo now."

"A lot of cops go solo and hermit once they reach that level of alcoholism."

It's not meant as a joke. He's sorry for the Hermit Cop.

"Did I tell you anything specific about this person that 'fucked me'?"

"You were pretty vague about it, but you kept saying you got fucked real hard and that we've all been fucked too..."

Please, don't open that door.

"No one's fucked me. I do the fucking around here."