Mickey and the mickey   Leave a comment

 April is said to be the cruelest month. The poor bastard in this story would probably agree with that. This happened on April first, April Fools day which was quite appropriate.The cops involved were Mickey (The Rhinestone Polock) Kowolski and Billy (Disco Billy) Zemeckis. Billy got the name because he thought that he looked and danced like John Travolta, the young Travolta of course not the old fat one. Now Mickey got his name because he was always dressed to the nines and also dancing. He was very happy with that nickname since his old one before it was changed was “Young Frankenstein” that was because he looked like he had been bobbing for French fries instead of apples. He must have had a major acne problem as a teenager.

They were just driving along with their disco blasting from the radio when central called.

“Eight-Three Charlie-David 10-54 1250 Hart Street third floor accidental stabbing. K”

“Charlie-David enroute, Central has an ambulance been dispatched? K”

“ETA thirty five minutes advise of situation when on the scene. K”

“10-4 Central Charlie-David enroute.”

Upon arriving at the scene they were met by a young woman. She waved them down screaming, “Hurry up. He’s upstairs and bleeding bad.”

As they were making their way up the stairs Billy asked, “What happened? Did somebody stab him?”

She answered, “No, he just bought a big Bowie knife and was showing off doing tricks with it. He twirled it around and stuck it in his pants and when he did he cut his penis off. There is a lot of blood.”

Billy stopped and looked at her for a second, “Did he just cut it or is it completely off?”

“It was on the floor when I ran down to get you.”

“Is there anyone up there with him?”

“A couple of friends of ours are with him. They are trying to stop the blood with a towel.”

As the cops came through the kitchen door they could see him lying on the floor. His friend a man had a bloody towel pressed between the injured man’s legs. The floor was covered with blood. The injured man slowly tilted his head to look up at them and said hello. His face was waxy white and he didn’t seem to feel any pain or to even know what was happening.

Mickey went out into the hall and radioed Central, “Eight-Three Charlie-David to Central K.”

“Charlie David”

“Central put a rush on that bus for Hart Street. We have serious bleeding here.”

“Standby Charlie.”

A minute later Central was back on the air, “Charlie EMS advises they are busy and it will be at least twenty minutes.”

“Central, advise EMS that if it is going to be twenty minutes they could cancel the bus and just send the morgue wagon. This man will be dead in ten minutes.”


“Eight-Three Charlie EMS advises they have a bus around the corner they can redirect to you they should be there in a minute or two.”

“Thank you Central. I will have someone downstairs to direct them.”

Mickey went back into the apartment and asked the woman who had directed them to the scene to run down stairs and show the ambulance crew the way up.

As she was leaving the apartment the other woman on the scene came up to Mickey and said, “Here you better take this with you.”

Mickey put his hand out expecting the knife. Instead she dropped the man’s penis into it. Mickey jerked away his hand away and the penis flew across the room sliding to a stop by the stove. ”

“Lady, can you put that thing in a plastic bag with some ice. It needs to be kept cold if they hope to sew it back on.”

She was back in seconds with the penis in the bag with a dozen ice cubes. Mickey gingerly held the bag by the top with two fingers until the ambulance crew’s arrival.

When they arrived Mickey handed the driver the bag while the EMT worked on the injured man. The two cops carried the man down the stairs to the bus. They had all the information they needed but still followed the bus to Knickerbocker Hospital. They wanted to see how the poor son of a bitch made out and they wanted to say hello to a few of the nurses.

At the hospital Billy was telling a couple of the nurses the whole story.

He told them, “Here we were I was getting the injured man’s information for the report. His friend was applying direct pressure to the wound. Mickey over there was just standing watching us with the guy’s dick in his hand. So we are working and Mickey is just holding holding the man’s Mickey.”

Mickey started waving his hands, “No, no that’s not how it was. It wasn’t like that. I told them to put the dick in a bag with ice. At no time did I ever touch that man’s dick. Billy, don’t you go spreading rumors about me holding some guys dick. I never did that, I don’t hold anybodies dick.”

Billy and the nurses burst out laughing at the red faced Mickey. He didn’t speak to Billy for the rest of the day.


Posted November 17, 2017 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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Missed it by that much   Leave a comment

Here is one of the stories in my new book. It is almost done now. I am halfway through December. The year will be over soon. I am still trying to think of a good Christmas story so if anyone had one they would like to share I am listening. The names I use are not the real names. That is of course if the stories are true which I will never say. The nicknames I use are just because I like the names. They don’t mean that they are in anyway related to what the story is about,


This story involves Ron Byrd and Denny Fry. That would be KooKoo and the Bubbler to those who read my first book. A couple of days after the incident at The Big G KooKoo and The Bubbler responded to a 10-10 Recorded Alarm down on Varet Street on a four to twelve tour.

Arriving on the scene Denny started checking doors and windows on the first floor looking for an open door or glass break.

KooKoo used the flood light in the car to scan the upper floors for broken windows. As his light swept by the windows all was secure. Then he thought he saw movement and raised the beam to the roof. He looked up and saw a man standing at the edge of the roof looking down at him.

KooKoo jumped out of the car and yelled, “Denny he is on the roof. We got him.”

Denny ran to an alley between the five story building the burglar was on and the building next to it. He hoped to find the open door there away from the street lights.

KooKoo yelled over, “We are going to find this asshole. He won’t get away today. I saw him first, he’s mine.”

As Denny started down the alley he noticed movement above him. He looked up and saw the burglar jumping from the roof to the building next door. Denny heard a scream as the felon failed to clear the alley. He watched the man all the way down. The burglar landed about five feet in front of Denny. Apparently seeing the two cops and knowing there was only one way in or out of the building he knew he had to do something or he was going to jail. So he tried to jump the alley.

KooKoo yelled over, “Was that him? Can you see him?”

Denny Answered, “I see him. He’s here Ray.”

“Did you catch him? Is he running? Remember he is mine.”

Denny yelled back, “I didn’t catch him. But he ain’t running. He is all yours Ray.”

KooKoo came running around the building and saw his Burglary collar in a bloody heap, “What the hell happened?”

Denny said, “He tried to jump from building to building.” He held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart and in his best Maxwell Smart voice said, “He missed it by that much.”

“Did you check? Is he dead?”

Denny said, “I didn’t have to check. He landed head first sounded like someone dropped a watermelon off the roof. That splot by the dumpster is half his brain. We better get another car to search the building.”

KooKoo said, “Yeah and I’ll call for the Sergeant, the squad, and a bus. Do you want to go to the morgue tomorrow?”

“Sure why not. I haven’t been there in a month. Tomorrow is our last one I could use the longer swing.”

KooKoo went back to the car and advised Central what was needed.

Five minutes later Sergeant Capp arrived on the scene. KooKoo was waiting on the street while Denny stayed with the body. They didn’t expect any people but they really didn’t want to explain how they failed to notice the rats were eating the perp so Denny was the rat chaser.

KooKoo explained to Sergeant Capp what happened.

Capp said, “Are you sure he is dead?”

“Yeah, Sarge he is dead.”

“Okay where is he?

“Over here in the alley.”

Sgt. Capp walked into the alley took one look at what a few minutes before had been a Burglary collar and whistled, “Well, you were right, that son of a bitch ain’t never getting any deader than he is right now. When the Squad and the ME get here don’t forget to show them where the rest of his brain is. Who is going to ID?”

Denny said, “I am Sarge.”

“Did you see him come down?”

“Yeah, Sarge.”

“What happened?”

“Sarge, it is about fifteen feet from roof to roof. I guess he judged the distance and figured he could make fifteen feet easy. As it turned out fourteen was easy, fifteen not so much. He landed about five feet in front of me.”

“How are you feeling with it?”

“Well Sarge, I gave him a nine point five. I would have gone higher but he really failed to stick the landing.”

“Okay, you sick bastard. I’ll move you to tomorrow’s eight to four. You remember how to get to the morgue?”

“Yeah I can find it.”

“Did you find the break?”

Denny said, “Yeah it’s this door but we haven’t been able to go in to search. He hit right as I was going for the door. I called for backup Sector Eddie is coming to search the building.”

“Good, after you see the ME stop at the house.”

“Okay Sarge.”

Sector Eddie searched there was no one else in the building. The owner was called to secure his business. The squad and the ME both said apparently accidental and the morgue wagon took the not quite athletic enough burglar away.

As Hank and I entered the Station House the next day we ran into Denny on his way out.

 “Hey Denny, How did the morgue go?”

Denny answered, “Those assholes are sick. I go in there to ID the burglar and they have him completely split open. One of the aides or whatever the hell they are is eating with one hand as he works on the body. Stuff is dripping down his glove and falling into the chest cavity. I tell him watch it, it’s dripping in the body. He says that’s okay that he is going to close him up now anyway. He says it’s sort of the D.O.A.’s last meal and starts giggling like an idiot. And they call me a sick bastard. I don’t think I’ll ever eat another Sloppy Joe.”


Posted July 31, 2017 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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Down by Newtown Creek   Leave a comment

I am back with a little story, nothing heavy today. But before I get into the story I would like to say my wife Nancy is healing pretty well from her new hip. I told not to say I never get her anything new anymore. She should graduate from walker to cane in a few days which isn’t too bad since she had the operation less than a week ago.

Anyway back to the story. Back in the 70’s the 83 ran north of Flushing Avenue all the way to Maspeth Avenue. This little story may or may not have occurred in that area.  It is a very abridged version of a story in the sequel to “A Year in Bushwick”. I call this version Down by Newtown Creek.

Down by Newtown Creek

Gerry and Bob were working a twelve to eight tour. It was a quiet midnight tour. Sunday going into Monday was often quiet down in Sector George, the factory and warehouse area at the north of the precinct.

Just after 0100 Central called with a recorded burglar alarm down by Newtown Creek. The partners responded there all the time, almost always a false alarm. The building took up a whole block and was over a hundred years old. Five or six times a month when the wind blew the windows would shake setting off the alarm. If there was an actual break it was always through the roof. So as soon as they arrived on the scene it was straight to the roof. They walked the whole roof there were no breaks. When the partners finished checking the roof they were on the opposite corner of the building from their car.

Gerry said, “This is all bullshit. Now we have to walk around this whole damn place checking for breaks.”

Bob shook his head, “Screw that, look we both know it’s a shit call. The wind is shaking the damn windows again. I’ll find a place to climb down on this street. You go to the corner and find a place on that street. I’ll go left you go right and we meet at the car. If we find a break we can give a yell over the radio. If not we can get the hell out of here.”

“Sounds good to me, meet you at the car.”

Gerry climbed down to the street and started walking checking each door and window as he went by. He had gone about forty feet when he heard a high pitched bloodcurdling scream from Bob around the corner followed by several shots. Drawing his gun Gerry ran for his partner.

As Gerry turned the corner he saw why Bob screamed. The street was covered with rats. Not just rats but tens of thousands of rats. It looked like a dirty gray brown carpet and to Gerry it felt like the skittering, squeaking, squealing, slithering swarm was coming right at him. Bob ran by him screaming then it was Gerry’s turn to scream like a twelve year old girl. Gerry turned and ran screaming behind Bob.

See, Bob had climbed down with his back to the street and dropped the last six feet. When he hit the ground something moved under his feet and he fell backwards. He landed flat on his back but not on the street. He landed on rats. He had rats under him, rats on top of him, rats all around him. That is when he screamed and shot a few. His sudden appearance yelling and shooting panicked the rats and they ran in all directions. Bob managed to get to his feet and run that is when he flew past Gerry who was also screaming at the time.

Once back in the car the two cops agreed to never tell anyone how they were chased screaming to their car by rats. They also agreed that they would get revenge.

They stopped back at the precinct to get what they needed from their lockers. They bided their time until things quieted down. At three thirty they decided the time had come. The partners quietly made their way to the spot they had chosen. It had pallets stacked on the side of a building on the rat infested street. Gerry opened his case and laid his equipment out on a pallet.

Gerry put down a .25 Berretta and a Walther PPK a .380, smiling at Bob he said, “These should do the job.”

Bob just shook his head and said, “These will do the job.” He opened his case and pulled out a Ruger Super Black Hawk .44 Magnum and a .45-70 revolver.

Gerry said, “Bob are you insane. We’re going for rats. Those things are for grizzlies.”

Bob smiled, “I don’t want to wound any.”

It was now time for Operation Ratfuck to begin. Gerry opened up on the rats. He started with his .25. It had a short barrel but accuracy wasn’t really necessary. There were so many rats in front of them it would be impossible to miss hitting one if you fired in the general direction. Each shot he fired dropped a couple of rats.

Gerry said to Bob, “See the twenty five is all you need.” just as Bob fired the 45-70. Rats flew in all directions several of them torn in half.

The two opened up when the rats started moving. As each emptied a gun they would just drop it and start shooting with the next. In less than ten seconds all guns were empty. The street was now clear of living rats. In the area Gerry was firing there were over two dozen dead rats. Where Bob fired there were only pieces. Lots and lots of pieces.

Within minutes the first calls came from Central of shots fired at their location. Gerry answered the call, “83 George enroute.”

The two cops threw the guns into their gym bags and tossed the bags into the trunk of the car. They could hear sector cars closing in on them as they gave the disposition back.

“83 George to Central, Have the responding units slow down. It looks like the shooters are gone on arrival. They were apparently shooting rats. There are dead rats all over the street.”

Sgt. Capp arrived on the scene, “Did you two see anything?”

“No, Sarge.”

“I guess you didn’t hear anything either?”

“Not a thing Sarge.”

“Okay, leave the rats for sanitation to take care of. You two go wash the gun powder off your hands.

“Yes, sir will do.”

So ended the great rat safari.  Bob and Gerry got their revenge and felt a bit less embarrassed about screaming like little girls earlier.

The next night at the change of tours Wild Eyes Willie from the four by twelve stopped Gerry, “Hey Gerry, The Buzzard and I went to where you had the rat shooters last night. To see if we could find anything.”

Gerry said, “Did you?”

“Yeah, we were just getting ready to leave when I spotted something in the water. We found a floater. He was shot in the head.”

Gerry just looked at him for a second and felt a little dizzy. Thinking a stray shot had hit someone. The area should have been deserted at that time. After a few seconds he managed to say, “Do they think he was killed last night?”  As visions of prison danced in his head.

“No, the ME said he had been in the creek for four or five days. It looks like a mob hit and dump.”

Gerry said, “I better go get changed before I’m late for roll call.”

Gerry ran up to the third floor stopping at the men’s room to throw up before going to his locker. Bob was changing in the locker next to him.

When he saw Gerry he said, “Damn, are you sick? You look like shit.”

Gerry answered, “I’ll explain in the car.”

Posted May 29, 2017 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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The release of Oscar López Rivera   Leave a comment

I keep hoping that I will be able to go back to silly little stories soon but I had to do this one today. I am going to be presenting a severely abridged version of a story from the new book I am more than halfway done with tonight at the Inspired Mic. I will post it here in the next few days.

Today I am writing about the release of Oscar López Rivera. This piece of shit was a leader of the F.A.L.N. in the 70’s and early 80’s. The F.A.L.N. was a terrorist organization that planted bombs killing and maiming people throughout the United States although their primary targets were in New York and Chicago. They admitted to at least seventy bombings. They claimed to be fighting for the people of Puerto Rico to free the island of its colonial oppressors. There was a referendum in Puerto Rico and those wishing independence amounted to six percent of the population. The F.A.L.N. were not fighting for the people, they were fighting to form a Cuban style dictatorship.

Oscar López Rivera had been offered release from prison by Pres. Clinton but he had to renounce violence and terrorism. He refused and the offer was withdrawn. His sentence was commuted by Pres. Obama despite the fact that he still refused to renounce violence. So this terrorist murdering bomber has now been released to again make bombs that kill and maim American civilians.

Are the citizens of New York enraged by this in this age of terrorism? No, he will be honored at the Puerto Rican Day Parade as a “National Freedom Hero”. The Mayor of New York the stated that he will be at the parade honoring Rivera. This was no surprise as Bill DeBlasio has always also always been a big fan of Castro and the killings and maiming of a few cops is really not anything he would disapprove of. City Council speaker Melissa Mark-Viverito has said that she believes Rivera was wrongfully convicted despite the fact that River himself has never denied anything. He instead claimed he was an enemy combatant and his enemy was the United States.

I have some personal feelings about this release. On December 3, 1982 I was in Police Headquarters assigned to P.D.T.U. otherwise known as the wagon board. I had run down to the lunch wagon to grab a bite. I was stopped at the security desk on my way back when there was a loud blast behind me and I was slammed into the desk. I turned and it looked like a steam pipe had burst. It was a second or two before I realized it was glass pulverized by the explosion. I drew my gun and ran out the hole in the wall checking to make sure the bombers were not there. To get outside I had to step passed the severely injured Police Officer Rocco Pascarella. At the time I didn’t know if Officer Pascarella was alive or dead. There was no one there when I got outside. The bombers had not stayed to see the results of their cowardly act. I returned and stayed with Officer Pascarella until help arrived.

As a result of the bombing I had a large bruise on my right thigh and have tinnitus in my left ear. I am also unable to distinguish voices over the phone. These are minor inconveniences Officer Pascarella lost part of his leg. On that same night Detectives Pastorella and Tony Senft were severely injured in another blast. I went home that day with my coat covered in Officer Pascarella’s blood.

It isn’t right that not only has one of the prime terrorists responsible has been released. This year’s Puerto Rican is being held in his honor.  He also is being honored by the Mayor of New York and the City Council Speaker as a hero. There is no parade for those injured cops and the cop hating Mayor and City Council Speaker aren’t calling them heroes.                                                             

Liberals and cop killers   1 comment

I received a call today from Frank (The Face) Cammarata. Frank told me that the Scumbag skell who murdered Det. Joe Taylor was to be released from prison on Thursday. This is why a death penalty is needed. The liberal politicians always say that there is no need for a death penalty that a cop killer will get life and never see the streets again. That is a lie. That is total bullshit. Joe Taylor was a good man. A far, far better man then the piece of shit that shotgunned him in a Bushwick hallway. I won’t mention the killer’s name, he doesn’t deserve to have his name on the same page as Joe. He should have had a bullet put in the back of his head years ago. I am happy to report Frank was wrong. The shithead has been denied parole. Now if only some fine upstanding prisoner would kill the bastard we could all rest easy.

Liberal NY politicians will always back the cop killers. Take the case of Judith Clark. She was involved in a robbery of a Brinks truck. That robbery left two cops Sgt. Edward O’Grady and Officer Waverly “Chipper” Brown and a Brinks guard Peter Paige dead. With the sentence she received she should have been eligible for parole when she was about a hundred. But Liberal Governor Andrew Cuomo jumped in to commute her sentence and make her immediately eligible for parole. After all it was only a couple of cops and a Brinks guard killed. It wasn’t like it was real people. How did he make this decision you ask. He went to the prison to speak to her. When he came out he said he got a “sense of her soul.” Another comment he made about her tells you all you need to know about how he really feels about her being involved in killing those men. According to an article in the NY Times, not the most conservative of sources, the conversation helped the Governor recognize some of the forces that helped propel the mayhem. Speaking of Judith Clark he said “You’re fighting for good vs. evil.” So Judith Clark I guess was fighting for good and the dead cops and Brinks guard were evil. The Parole Board did not agree with the Governor and she was not granted parole but now the families will have to deal with her coming up for parole every two years.

Cuomo isn’t the only low life politician in New York who sees killing cops as fighting for good vs. evil. Mayor DeBlasio honeymooned in Cuba. There have been many reports that while there he made a pilgrimage to see one his idols Joanne Chesimard. A convicted cop killer, she is believed to have been involved in up to ten cop killings. The wonderful Mayor never lets a chance to attack cops go by. He and the Governor like all liberals politicians love cops, dead ones. Dead cops are the only ones they ever back, the rest are just assumed to be guilty of something even if they can’t find anything.

Then there is the case of Mumia Abu-Jamal in Philadelphia. Anyone with half a brain looking at the evidence knows he is guilty as hell in the murder of Officer Daniel Faulkner. That of course does not stop the idiots in Hollywood from screaming that he is an innocent man. The prosecution had four witnesses who saw him shot Officer Faulkner. The gun used to shot Officer Faulkner was Abu-Jamal’s. Jamal was wearing an empty shoulder holster. His gun was beside him with five spent cartridges. In the shoot out Officer Faulkner had shot Jamal. I guess the cop hating left in Hollywood see all that as a coincidence. But what can you expect from a group that loves to have rappers that sing about killing cops playing cops on TV.

So once again my blog which I would rather be just me telling stories about years ago becomes a place to complain about the bullshit.

Bitch, bitch, bitch   Leave a comment

Again I haven’t written for a while. I have to stop procrastinating and I will, maybe tomorrow. Spring is here and I have a lot of work around the house. So I thought I would throw a few lines out today. These are just a few things that irritate me. I was going to say confuse me but if I did that I would be writing for a week.

First a little warning, if any Met or Yankee fan is considering getting DISH TV and wants MLB Extra Innings be advised they don’t carry the home feed for either team. In the past I have had Extra Innings with Direct TV and with cable both carried the NY teams home feed. I called DISH and was told that SNY was the most requested channel they have but they don’t carry it. I was also told I will still get all the Mets games the only difference is I will get the opposing teams feed. First I would rather get the Mets feed and two the Mets played the Phillies three games of them I got one game. The others were listed as not available.

Another irritating thing is I have been hearing a lot about the Opiod epidemic. They keep saying it is unprecedented. I remember as a cop in the eight-three in the seventies there were plenty of junkies around. They may have been using heroin instead of prescription meds but it is still an opiod. I remember seeing a lot of shooting galleries. There was one on Myrtle Avenue just off Wilson Avenue. On the second floor the glassine envelopes and aluminum foil packets were two or three inches deep. When you walked through the vacant apartments they covered your ankles.

I remember when my son was playing little league baseball they had a speaker come to give the teams a talk on the dangers of drugs. The kids, parents and coaches were all sitting in the grass listening to him. He gave a good class until he got on cigarettes. Now I am glad he spoke about avoiding cigarettes and the effect they have on your health but he said one thing that I thought was insane. He stated that cigarettes are worse for you and more addictive then heroin. He said it several time during his presentation. Afterwards I had to speak to him about it. I told him there is no comparison that heroin is the worst drug in the world. That heroin addicts have no family or friends that their life is totally devoted to getting their next fix. He answered that it is the same with cigarettes but that they are a harder habit to kick. I asked him if he had ever seen a heroin junkie trying to kick. He told me not personally but he had the books to prove his point. I told him that I have seen a lot of junkies needing a fix. That they scream and cry in pain, stomach cramps, uncontrollable shakes and that is only the beginning. I told him junkies go through that cigarette smokers who need a cigarette get cranky. I could not convince him he said his books said cigarette smoking is more addictive so it was. I really believe part of the opiod problem is that kids think heroin can’t be too bad if cigarettes are worse.

I also hear of the unprecedented number of homicide of Police Officers. Again I can remember in the seventies in New York it seemed any time we removed our black mourning bands we were putting them back on in a week or two. I have no idea how many Inspectors’ Funerals I have been to. I have to admit despite the fact that New York’s super liberal politicians hate cops guts they do throw them nice funerals. They love all the pomp and pageantry involved in dead cops plus they can use it to get a lot of TV face time. The same with the media they all hate live cops but love dead ones. It gets ratings.

Lastly anytime a cop is in the paper or on TV for anything they always bring up that he has prior complaints against him for brutality. The only way you can slide through without civilian complaints is to be an empty suit to do nothing at all. Any cop who goes out and is active, making arrests and doing the job is going to have civilian complaints lodged against him. I had several perps tell me not to take offense that they it was their lawyer’s idea. The Legal Aid lawyer told him that he could use it to get a better plea deal.

Anyway that’s enough complaining for one day. I will write again soon.

Random Thoughts   Leave a comment

Not too much to say this week. My toe still hurts but not too much. At least it is healing. I did get a few pretty good stories sent to me. Thank you Wild Eyes and Frankie Face. I read a story at the Inspired Mic again on Thursday. It seemed to go over pretty good. I am almost ready to put out my second book this one will be called “EDIPS plus three”. It has four stories in it a “EDIPS” a zombie apocalypse set in NYC. The title comes the asshole politically correct cop hating Mayor of NY. When the plague first started the Mayor heard cops referring to the infected as zombies. He threatened to suspend any cop who called them that. He insisted they be called Emotionally Disturbed Infected Persons Hence EDIPs. That will be the long story at just over a hundred pages. In it I also explain how the zombies are able to physically exist moving and eating despite being dead. The another story is “Louie Carbone” it is about two retired NYPD cops who respond down to Flagle Beach, Florida to assist the daughter of a deceased cop when she is threatened by a mobster. That one is about thirty seven pages long.There are also two short fantasy stories that will be set between the larger ones. I am also over a hundred pages into the sequel to “A Year In Bushwick”. It will be titled “Back in Bushwick”. I decided to this one a bit different. It starts with a couple of retired cops sitting in a bar in Brooklyn. On a bet one of them dictates a whole year of stories. It will again start on New Year’s Eve. This time where to last one ended and will continue to the next New Year’s Eve. That’s all until next week.

Posted March 25, 2017 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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