Sid felt like when all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn’t get Humpty back together again. She had fucked up and taken all of her drugs in the wrong order this morning. Choked back a crusty adderall (dry I might add you), that she’d found in a coat pocket the night before. Hit a bong which seemed extreme, even for her. Next some trusty Prozac. And then finally, coffee.
Completely.
Wrong.
Fucking.
Order.
This would later pose a precocious problem in her day.
She looked out onto the Gulf.
Grey. Cold. Dead.
The coffee was good. Strong. Perfect to kickstart the Addies. She could already feel it surging through her veins. Efficient drugs where the best!
Her reflection in the window causes a pause, but then she quickly shifts her eyes elsewhere. Anywhere else. Look anywhere else. She hated the way she looked now, how time had begun its course. Mother natures cruelest joke, fading beauty. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she felt like her looks where her only value as a human.
“And each day that passed, would be some of the last.”
She looked down at her phone.
Dispatch Calling.
“Fuck” she mutters to herself answering the call.
“Yeah” she croaks into the phone, realizing it had been days since she’d utter a word.
“Detective you’re requested on scene. I’m sending you the coordinates now.” Dispatch states.
“Copy” she replies. She would’t need the coordinates. She knew where it would be.
One last accidental glare at her sullen existence. Rubbing her face abrasively with her hands, she mentally prepares. The last thing you want to see in this “out of order” high state of mind was a dead body.
But she knew that would be unavoidable.
He manhandled the steering wheel like it was second nature. One handed, the other taking a huge drag off a cigarette. Hawaiian shirt violently flapping in the wind. Moonlight to his back. He drove the speedboat with force through those emerald Floridian waves.
Silver eyes. Dark hair. Blank Stare. The speedometer at its max. The front of the boat surely no match for these waves. Not for long at least.
Did he have a death wish? Or was he already dead?
He looks over casually to the shore. Someone in the distant dark. He makes a hard right turn towards land.
Sid liked the feeling of the crime scene tape on her fingertips. Smooth and cool. It rippled madly in the wind off the coast like a guttural scream. She approached the body partially buried in the sand.
Naked. Decapitated. Dead Man’s Penis.
Not a delicacy.
Just like the others, the body had been drained completely of its blood. Stiff whites. Like a giant slab of forgotten tilapia. But a slab with a hard on. Well. Half a hard on. So technically they’d left “some” blood.
The penis looked like it had be ripped off right in the middle of the shaft. Or bitten in half? My god.
“Did he have the hard on before or after he was beheaded?” She wondered. “Beheaded getting head (ed) “ Could be a possibility?
She writes in a tiny black book with a tiny red marker.
DEAD HEAD
She kicks her feet around a little in the sand. No real reason but to…
“Could you fucking not?!!”
She looks over and sees Richardson, forensics. He scoffs at her in his stupid forensics suit.
“You look like a fucking Minion,” she says and steps right over the body, dropping sand particles all over it.
“Great, fucking perfect.” Richardson walks off.
Sid crouches down to scan the sand closer.
“This is pointless” How I got roped into working a fucking beach town is beyond me. Fuck this fucking sand. I’ll never get used to it.” She wipes her hands all over her jeans.
Richardson isn’t listening.
Standing on the shoreline in her long black overcoat and Wayfarers she looked like a mix of Christian Slater in the film "Heathers" & Cate Blanchett playing Bob Dylan in "I'm Not There.” The water just touches the tip of her doc martins. The ones she'd had since high school.
The froth at the end of the waves bubbled into nothingness. Clam holes grasping for air in between every wash over. Catching and letting in moments of light underground.
A Glimmer, A Shimmer. A broken chain ?
She kneels down and picks up what seems to be a piece of a chain necklace. Partially buried, she tugs at it, but it’s stuck.
She digs her hands into the swirling water and sand. Frantic to find where the chain ended and the problem began. Then eyes widen. She’s got something!
In between her fingers, something muscular, red, meaty.
Sea Meaty, Matey.
The other half of Dead Man’s Penis.
Startled, she stands up too quickly. And that whole precocious predicament of doing her drugs in the wrong order came to a head.
Dizzy, everything turns white. With her back to the sea the edge of land & water fades. Spreading her arms out wider than Jesus on the cross she falls backwards unconscious into the water. Half a dick still in her hand.
To be continued ….. (moooohooohhahahahahah)
Love your writing Lauren.
Look forward to the next chapter ❤️❤️💋🐈⬛🐈🐶🇦🇺