A Fiction Story

My name is Frank Parker-Smythe. I was a cop once. Now I am a criminal and I gleefully pop a cap in other cop's asses.

How did I become a criminal? You know the old stories, the cliches. They're true. I got hooked on Sneaky Pete Wine and H. I was hopped up morning to night. I needed that stuff to go on. It had a hold on me. I couldn't get out of it's grip!

I killed a couple cops in a shakedown. I was caught, but got off on a technicality. Then my brother tried to talk me down from a paranoia attack one night and I unloaded my midnight special into his cranium. Not a pretty sight.

I've been on the run ever since. I only kill when I have to. But it seems that I have to all the time. I'm on the run. I live underground. I hide out with other freaks, addicts, criminals, killers. My name on the streets is "Crazy Mary". I don't know why.

My name is not Mary. It's Frank. I just hope that I don't have to spend all eternity in the devil's hot grasp. I repent. Jesus, I repent. I will kill again.

I met a dame one night outside of a frank n' beans dive. It was over pretty quick. No, wait, I didn't kill her, I just had sex with her. I don't kill women and children. Okay, that's not true, but you know what I mean. If a woman is doing a man's job, she might get hurt. Like say she's working the register in a 7-11 when I need a slurpee and a grand. Bang bang. Or if she's walking down the street carrying a purse filled with money. Another man's job.

One day I had the heebie jeebies and I was crawling the walls in my rented hotel room. I hadn't been able to get any H for 3 days and I was going through vodka like it was bath water. I think I ate my shoe. Regardless, I've only got one shoe now...

To Be Continued!!....

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