“Wait a second,” I exclaimed, “What’s going on here?”
“Playin’ hopskotch,” replied the young girl, “There’s this fun new one to play on!”
Shocked, I knelt down to eye-level with the girl. “You do realize that this ‘hopskotch’ course is really the outline of a dead body don’t you? What you’re doing right now is what we policemen like to refer to as ‘contaminating a fucking crime scene.’ I don’t know what your deal is little girl, and I don’t want to know, but there are bloody footprints all over this playground that match perfectly with your shoe size.”
I was jacked up. I pulled out my standard issue revolver and handcuffs before radioing for backup.
Later, when I was looking back on it while getting raped and beaten in jail, I reasoned that pistol whipping her wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.
