![]() 08/15/2015 at 12:12 • Filed to: untrue detective, i admit it this is all lies | ![]() | ![]() |
Purring like a kitten with a vacuum leak, the car gulped down a little extra air and nitromethane every time I tapped the gas pedal idly with my right foot. I was waiting for something, and a car like this doesn’t like to wait. If I’m honest with you, a man like me doesn’t like to wait either.
My duty commander had told us to take a look on the down-low at this warehouse down on the dock. It was suspected that they were carrying illicit, terrible merchandise, smuggling it in from distant locations that I could never visit on a patrolman’s salary.
I of course decided that the ideal vehicle for an undercover operation was a bright red ‘56 Plymouth Savoy station wagon with twin street scoops sticking out of the hood, slammed on tractor-wide tires and enough parking lot and ramming damage to keep a car restoration shop on TV until the apocalypse. My fellow officers had a lot of negative things to say about my appearance, the flash, the poise, the attitude, but they understood that I got results. Well, they would if I got results this time.
My thoughts were interrupted as I saw a suspicious Mitsubishi Fuso short-wheelbase box truck reversing down the alley outside of the warehouse.
![]() 08/15/2015 at 12:35 |
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And then you woke up.
![]() 08/16/2015 at 08:28 |
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I read that in this voice.