Archive for the ‘Rats’ Tag

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

Tagged with , , , , ,

The Dark House   2 comments


Kevin001I was away on the gulf side of Florida for a week and haven’t written. I am back now so here I go again. Today’s story has some truth and some fiction. I forgot what corner the house with the black widows was on but it did exist. If anyone remembers the place let me know where it was. Now here is today’s story.

Sean and Harry had a rookie riding along on a midnight tour. The rookies name was John. He was tall, thin and rookie stupid. Unfortunately he would not acknowledge that. He had gone through the academy at the top of his class and believed he had nothing more to learn. He felt his mission was to teach the veteran cops.

Halfway through the tour Sean and Harry were trying to decide which of them should strangle the smug, obnoxious know-it-all. They were fast losing hope that they could get him to understand he had a lot to learn before he got himself or somebody else badly hurt.

Harry was trying to explain to John how he had screwed up on their last call. That he should just listen and keep his mouth shut on the next call. If he did that he might learn something. It was like talking to a wall.

Central called just in time as Harry’s frustration was growing fast and his patience wearing thin. The call was for a suspicious person in back of a house on Knickerbocker Ave. Sean groaned as he listened to Central give the details. They were to meet Mr. Carluda reference a male loitering behind his home.

“John-King enroute.” Sean answered.

“10-04 John-King.”

“Henry-Ida backing up.” Followed almost immediately.

“10-04 Henry-Ida”

On the way to the scene Sean briefed Mike about the house and its occupants.

“Mike, this is a very strange house. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. On this call do exactly as I say or I will kick your ass when we are done. Do you understand me.?”

“What’s so strange here?”

“When we pull up we wait for Henry-Ida before we go in. The place is known as the Dark House or Vampire House. It has three apartments, one on each floor but only one group lives in the building. We don’t know if they are a family or a cult or what, but there are a lot of them and they are all weird. All the windows are painted black. The occupants usually only come out at night. When they do come out during the day they wear long black coats, gloves and wide brimmed hats. They act like they are vampires, so do what I tell you to do.”

“Oh come on, do you really think they are vampires?”

“It doesn’t matter what we think. It’s what they think. If they cut your throat to drink you blood, who cares if they are vampires or crazy?”

As they pulled up to the scene Gerry and Bob in sector Henry-Ida were just getting out of their car. After checking the outside of the building they went up the stoop to the front of the building. Mr. Carluda opened the door as they approached.

“Officers, did you see them?”

“No, no one was there. Where did you see him?”

“Come in and I’ll show you.”

Carluda led them to an open back window and pointed to the location where he saw the man.”

The four cops could feel an oddness to the home. There was no electricity, the room was lit with candles. They could hear the other occupants scurrying around in the floors above them. The walls themselves felt alive. They seemed to vibrate and hum of their own accord.

Carluda noticed them looking around and said, “We have rats in the walls, sometimes they come out to try to eat our bees.”

“What bees?” Harry asked.

“We have hives in the attic. We keep them for the honey and make our candles with the wax.”

With that Mr. Carluda led them to the front door. Sean told him they will search the area and give the house special attention for the rest of the night. Carluda thanked him and they left.

When they hit the street Sean went up and down the block looking in doorways and behind cars.

Harry yelled “What the hell are you looking for?”

“I figured we must be in the Twilight Zone. I am looking for Rod Serling.”

Back in the car Harry turned to Mike, “Vampire Beekeepers, even Stephen King never thought of that one. They are crazy as hell but so far harmless. The next time they may not be. Tonight was very strange tomorrow could be very dangerous. They didn’t teach you about that in the academy did they?”


“That’s why you have to keep an open mind. We all have things to learn every day. Now let’s get the hell away from here.”

Sean called in the disposition, “83 John-King to Central Suspicious person 10-96 Gone on Arrival. Resuming patrol.

Marion Harmon, A Writer in Vegas.

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