by Del Jackson
Chapter 14: You have the right to Romaine silent.
“Machismo rape,” said Joey Romaine, the curls of his orange afro lilting daintily dainting liltily in the seething sweaty sleaze of summer, the hot hot heat, “…is my greatest fear. Can you imagine what kind of sick monster? AHHHHHHhhhhhaaahhHHHAAA!”
Drennen Quinn, ♪♪ Hair. Down. To his knee / Got to be a joker he just do what he please ♪♪, just cackled.
A rat-a-tat-tat, way more insistent this time, on the driver side window of DQ’s El Camino.
“Holy shnikes. Who the funk is this guy?” said Joey. “This is the tallest guy I ever seen, oh my God. Unbelievable. This guy’s walking down the street, ♪♪ LA-DUH-DA-DA ♪♪, and people are running away, Godzilla.”
DQ was right there but far away in his own mind, at home in Hotlanta perhaps, or backstage with The Strokes. In the back seat cooed Erwin Rommel, Joey’s bombastic cat and sometime dance partner. The radio blared Ini Kamoze’s “Here Comes The Hotstepper” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7MK5Esy-L0).
DQ, back to reality, for real this time. 12:23 AM on Irving Park and Southport.
“Oh shit. We got pulled over,” said Drennen, staring now at the badge of the tallest guy Joey Romaine had ever seen. Officer Kimball, neo-Chicago PD.
“Let me handle this,” said Joey, brimming with all the confidence that a Customer Service Role Model and Innovator of the Year (2016), all the confidence that winning an award like that engenders entails encourages. DQ and Joey, they somehow worked CS at GoopOn Adhesives, one of the few old Chicago businesses to successfully rebuild following the—anyway.
Anyway, complete 58,000 tickets in one sitting like Joey Romaine had, and you’ll win a few awards, too.
“No way,” said Drennen. “You’ll land us both in jail. I don’t even know how we got into this crazy mess.”
“What are you talking about?” said Joey, incredulous. “I’m the best at these situations. I was almost the guy they bring in to talk people down on S.W.A.T. teams and stuff. Swear to God.”
“No you weren’t,” said Drennen.
“I’ll give him the old razzle dazzle, Officer and a Gentleman-style. By the way, Richard Gere in that movie, not his best. But Debra Winger, oh my God. Greatest acting performance of all time. Give her the Oscar already, that’s what I said when the credits roll'd. Meryl Streep, here’s a Sophie’s Choice for you: eat your heart out, because Debra Winger is in town, and she’s fantastic.”
DQ roll’d down the window.
“I’ve been waiting out here for fifteen minutes,” said Officer Kimball, pissed.
Twenty seconds passed.
“You two hippies know why I pulled you over?”
“I can’t imagine what we did wrong,” Drennen said. Got to be a joker.
“You’ll be spending a night in county. You there, Kool-Aid, you know what happens in county?”
Joey, sheet white, a ghost biting ghost fingernails, whispered “Machismo rape…”
My record collection, DQ thought to himself.
Erwin Rommel stretched, indignant. There would be no dancing tonight.
And the radio, all Rasta and Reggae:
♪♪
Nah, na na na nah, na na na nah, na na nah, na na nah, na na nanah
Nah, na na na nah, na na na nah, na na nah, na na nah, na na nanah
Here comes the hotstepper, murderer
I'm the lyrical gangster, murderer
Big up the crew in-a de area, murderer
Still love you like that, murderer
No, no, we don't die
Yes, we multiply
Anyone test will hear the fat lady sing
Act like you know, Rico
I know what Bo don't know
Touch them up and go, uh-oh
Ch-ch-chang-chang
♪♪
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