Archive for the ‘Bushwick’ Tag

My Latest Books     Leave a comment


It’s been some week for me. I published the sequel to a “A Year In Bushwick”. “Back to Bushwick” is now available in paperback on Amazon for $12.50 and on Kindle for$2.99. I also just finished my zombie apocalypse book “E.D.I.P.s” That stands for Extremely Dead Infected People. The story there is of six friends from Red Hook who go on their annual fishing trip to Montauk when the apocalypse hits. They have to get back to save their families and that is where the story really begins. That should be available in paperback by next week for $8.00. It is available on Kindle for $2.99.

Next I am going to try to write something about growing up in the fifties and sixties in Red Hook Brooklyn. If anyone has any memories from that time they would like to share with me I am listening. I want the book to make people feel what it was like to grow up in Red Hook back then.



Posted March 21, 2018 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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Kung Fu Asshole   1 comment

This is the story I will be reading tomorrow at the Inspired Mic. It comes from my new book. The book is available for Kindle right now and as soon as I get the proofs back and can okay it, It will be available on Amazon as a paperback. It took long enough but I finally finished it. That is what happens when you write two completely different books at the same time.



This is the story of the only time Mike (Super Jew) Katz and Frank (Young Frankenstein) Walsh ever had to go to the Civilian Complaint review Board.

Now Mike and Frank did not like to fight at all. They didn’t make a lot of collars. They were more into just giving tickets and avoiding trouble. Some cops had been known to say if they were any more laid back they’d be stuffed.

 They were leisurely patrolling along Bushwick Avenue one day,  when Central called.

“Central to Eight-Three Eddie-Frank for a 10-52 K.”

Frank answered, “Eddie-Frank, go ahead Central.”

“Eddie-Frank respond to a 10-52 Family Dispute 1241 Gates Avenue second floor meet complainant Anderson.”

Frank and Mike rolled slowly to the scene hoping the fight would be over by the time they got there.

Frank always said, “If Central doesn’t say it’s a violent dispute, take your time. Most the time if you don’t rush they’ll kiss and make up before you get there. The job will handle itself. You can go for days without actually having to do anything but drive up and say is everybody happy.”

This was not one of those days. They could see the second floor apartment door was open as they entered the hall. They didn’t hear any screaming so that was the first good sign.  Unfortunately it was also the last good sign.

Upon reaching the second floor landing a girl came running out of the apartment screaming that he’s crazy. He was trying to kill her.

Entering the apartment they saw a young man standing in the middle of the kitchen with his back to them. The table was flipped over and food thrown all around. Mike was still hoping that they could clear this as condition corrected without having to do anything.

Mike said, “Police, everything all right here?”

The man who looked to be about twenty slowly turned, gave the two cops his best Bruce Dern psycho stare and screamed, “Get the fuck out of my house or I’ll kill you.”

Frank looked at Mike and keyed in his portable radio, “Eight-Three Eddie-Frank to Central K.”


“Can I have a 10-85 forthwith at this location on a violent dispute, Possible Psycho.”

“Eight-Three John-King read direct Central enroute.”

“Okay John-King, Eddie-Frank did you receive.”

“Affirmative Central.”

Mike put his hands out trying to calm the man, “Relax we’re just here to find out what’s happening. We aren’t here to hurt anyone.”

The psycho screams again, “What’s happening? What’s happening? I’ll tell you what’s happening. None of your damn business is happening. Now get out or I’ll kill you both.”

“Whoa, whoa no one has to be hurt. Let’s talk about this.”

At that the twenty year old asshole pulled out a pair of Nunchucks and went into the whole Bruce Lee routine. He has one stick under his right arm and the other in his right hand.

Mike said, “Hey, hey put that away before somebody gets hurt.”

With that the man goes into action and the stick flew out from under his arm. The stick was swinging around so fast the cops could see it only as a blur. They backed up a couple of steps. The man was jumping, spinning and screaming. They could hear the stick whizzing around him. Both cops pulled their guns.

Frank looked at Mike, “This fuckin guy is scary. We may have to shoot him.”

Mike nodded, “Yeah you better shoot him.”

“Me? Why me? Why don’t you shoot him?”

Before either one could fire a shot they learned he was not quite as good as they thought he was. On a pass around his neck he hit himself in the back of the head. Blood spurted out onto the wall behind him. He staggered for a couple of seconds but as they tried to move in on him he regained his footing. 

The sticks never slowed, speeding behind and in front of him. Mike and Frank separated to make it harder for him to focus on them. Both continued trying to talk him into a peaceful surrender. He was swiveling his head and spinning from one to the other when he lost concentration and struck himself on the left side of the face. The chain between the sticks smacked into his nose which broke immediately. He was now bleeding from the back of his head. His left eye was swollen shut and the skin around it split open, blood was gushing from there and from his nose.

 He was now covered with blood. The two cops who hadn’t even touched him were standing there with their mouths hanging open, stunned by what was happening in front of them.

 Frank said, “Mike, we’re going to have to stop this guy before he kills himself.”

 “How, he’s moving so fast I can’t get near him?”

As he spun blood flew out hitting the walls and the two cops. Luckily, on the next pass behind his back his stick slammed into his left elbow. When it did, the nunchucks flew out of his hand and he grabbed his arm. They tackled and handcuffed him before he had a chance to fight. At the hospital, it was determined that he had fractured his nose and left orbit. He needed twelve stitches in his head and he had also broken his own elbow.

He was arrested for Menacing and Criminal Possession of a Weapon. In court the next day at arraignment the judge ordered him to Kings County for a ten day mental health exam. His Legal Aid Attorney filed the civilian complaint calling it police brutality. It was eventually ruled in their favor, but for two cops who had never been to CCRB before it was frightening. The cops never heard from him again. As a Kung Fu master he turned out to be more Jerry Lewis than Bruce Lee.


Posted March 14, 2018 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts

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Down at Newtown Creek Part 2   Leave a comment

On the four by twelve the same day Frank Walsh and John Stern were in sector George. Word had gotten around the precinct that someone was out hunting rats on the midnight.

Over coffee Frank said, “Drive down to where all the rats were shot last night. See if we can find anyone hanging around.”

The Buzzard answered, “Why scare them away? They can come back and shoot a few hundred every night. Last week on a call I was in the basement of an abandoned factory when I heard a noise. I flipped on my flashlight and there were thousands of rats down there. They panicked at the light and the only way out was the stairs I was on. They charged by me. They were on my feet and legs crawling all over me. I almost shit my pants and puked. I hate rats.”

“Come on, don’t be a pussy. Rats are like squirrels with no fur on their tails.”

“I don’t like squirrels either. I’ll drive there but if there are rats all over the place I’m fuckin leaving. Those rabid beady eyed little bastards look at me like a piece of cheese.”

“Don’t worry they don’t come out during the day.”

The Buzzard complained about rats all the way but there were no rats when they got there. Frank and John got out of the car and tried to find where the shots were fired from the night before. They climbed right over the spot where Gerry and Bob shot from but any ejected cases had fallen down between the boards of the pallets. There was no visible evidence. No one considered calling C.S.U out for dead rats. So the case had been closed but it was still interesting to Frank.

After about fifteen minutes The Buzzard said, “Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing to see but blood and little pieces of rats.”

A disappointed Frank said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Frank was standing at the edge of Newtown Creek. The second most polluted water in New York City. Only the Gowanus Canal was worse. The creek was about seven feet below street level. As Frank turned to return to the car he stopped.

“Hey, John what’s that over there?”

John responded, “Where? If it’s a fuckin rat I’m leaving.”

Frank pointed, “Over there, do you see it? Can you tell what it is?”

John was closer to where Frank pointed. He walked a little way along the edge of the water until he got a clear view.

“Son of a bitch, you make me drive over here to see dead rat parts and now we get stuck with a floater. I’m not going into that shit to see if he is still alive.”

“Look at him. He ain’t never getting any deader than he is right now. You stay here I’ll call the Sgt. and ESU.”

Sgt. Artie Hynes pulled up a few minutes after the call went out.

“Where‘s the floater?”

Frank answered, “Right over there Sarge by the sand bar.”

“That’s not a sand bar. That sand is floating on top of the creek”

The Buzzard said, “How can sand float on water?”

“This isn’t water, this is Newtown creek. God knows what’s in it. Did you call for the M.E. yet?”

“No we were going to wait for ESU to pull him out.”

“I’ll call the squad and ME; ESU will be here long before he is. You two stay with the body.”

John said, “Sarge, what about our meal?”

“I don’t have anyone available to relieve you. You will have to relieve each other.”

After Sgt. Hynes left The Buzzard turned to Frank, “I am not going to stand out here alone waiting for the rats to come out.”

“John, the rats are more afraid of you then you are of them.”

“I don’t care. I’m not staying here alone unless I am in the car.”

“Okay, I’ll call a sector to stop by and we can have them pick up food for us. You can stay in the car.”

ESU arrived five minutes later. Sgt. Hynes and the squad were right behind them.

Hynes called them all together, “I talked to the ME and explained the situation. He said for ESU to bring the body to shore that he sure as hell wasn’t going into the water to check him. He said he should be here in about an hour or so.”

P.O. Moore one of the Emergency Service Officers walked to the edge of the Creek and said, “This should be no problem.”

He turned to his partner and yelled, “Jack get the rope. Toss an end to me when I get the body onto the sand bar.”

As Sgt. Hynes opened his mouth to warn about that “sand bar” Moore jumped. It was a good jump he hit the sand right in the middle and went right through. He came up a couple of seconds later gasping and gagging. All four cops and the Sgt. ran to the edge. The other ESU cop tossed two lines to Moore. Moore tied one end around the DOA and grabbed the second line that his partner threw him.

The four cops heaved Moore up and over onto the street. He was covered in water and only God knows what else. There were green, Red, yellow, Black, brown and purple strings, stains and lumps of slime covering him. Moore was up on his knees puking as the three hauled the body up. It was obvious that the man had been shot at least once. That one was right in the forehead.

The detectives from the precinct squad now got close enough o verify that it was a homicide. Two of the detectives were Artie and Jim. I had been having trouble with those two for a year. They were pretty useless. They had not helped to pull either the cop or the body out because they didn’t want to get their suits or London Fog trench coats stained. At the time just about all the squad wore London Fogs.

Detective Artie said, “This looks like it could be a homicide. I’ll notify the Homicide Squad. We aren’t needed here and he’s ripe. We are going back to the station house.”

As the two drove away Sgt. Hynes shook his head, “There go two useless bastards. Those two couldn’t find a Jew in Israel.”

The ME arrived shortly after and pronounced him dead. He said he would expedite the morgue wagon. They always say that but the cops never believe them. This time apparently he did. When he called it in he said the body was out in the middle of the street so a rush was needed to get him out of there. He didn’t mention that it was in a commercial area and the only people within blocks were the cops. The wagon was there and the body was removed a half hour later.

That night at the change of tours Frank saw Peterson, “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. After a few seconds he managed to say, “Do they think he was killed last night?” Visions of prison were dancing 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. McDuff changing in the locker next to Gerry’s”

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

Gerry answered, “Everything is okay but I almost had a heart attack. I’ll explain when we’re in the car.”


Posted January 31, 2018 by kevingcox in Random Thoughts, Uncategorized

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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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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.

Marion Harmon, A Writer in Vegas.

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