Have you ever heard the story of the scorpion and the frog? Two unlikely associates among the realm of the wildlings. One is friendly-faced and beloved. Cherished among its fellow slimy-backed pond dwellers and feared only by passing fruit flies. The other is a loner. Notoriously cold and dangerous, it shuffles among the shadows as it quietly picks away at its latest victim...
...one decisive blow at a time.
The two supposed adversaries tell a tale of deceit and misgiving. One defined by doubt and mistrust. Yet, behind their tragic story there lies a modicum of truth. A rare nugget of authenticity that pulls the curtains on this strange reality we sometimes call; life.
One day the scorpion, alone and abandoned, approaches a river. It knows that it could never possibly swim across without assistance. But alas, the sharp-pincered fiend must make it to the other side unscathed. Stuck in the midst of this troubling dilemma, the scorpion soon spies a frog in the water and reluctantly asks for its help…
“Help me across on your back, frog…” it demands somewhat boldly, “…and I’ll promise not to sting you.”
The frog, predictably bewildered by such a strange request, finds itself perturbed.
“Ok…” it replies cautiously, “…but if you do sting me, scorpion, I will die…and in turn, you will surely drown.”
The scorpion nods its pincers and lowers its sting.
“Understood…” the scorpion smiles, “…it’s a deal, frog.”
So, without further ado, the two newfound companions make their way across the river together; the frog lumbering slowly through the soft current, with the scorpion resting leisurely upon its back. Yet, as is often the way within the unforgiving underbelly of the cruel animal world, the ill-fated agreement does not last long. The pair make it roughly two-thirds of the way across when the scorpion delivers its deadly strike…
“Wha…why!?” the poor frog splutters through the waves, unable to dislodge the fatal sting now plunged into the back of its head, “…why, scorpion!? Now we are both going to die…”
The scorpion thinks for a moment, before it too begins to succumb to the onrushing water.
“Why…?” the scorpion remarks coldly, “…because it is my nature, frog. I stung you because…well, it’s all I know. It’s all I’ve ever known…”
“But…now we’re both dead!”
“What did you expect, frog?” the scorpion mutters one final time, “…it’s my nature.”
And there, with the soft waves of the river now lapping all around them, the two foes meet their untimely end. Both unable to overcome the respective fates cast upon them, and both unable to separate themselves from the very nature of their being.
*
Two shots in the dark was all it took. Two shots in the dark, one carton of out of date orange juice splashed across the kitchen counter…and a runaway cat screeching at the top of its lungs as it hauled itself through the back window. That was enough for them to force me out onto the street with the late evening skyline striking my weary eyes. That was all it took, to haul me into the back of the police van like a stray mutt with no home to call his own.
Two shots in the dark…
Two ham-fisted police officers…
…and one dead body lying cold on the floor of my apartment.
“That’s it, breathe it in…” spoke the first of the two boneheaded cops, “…that’s the last breath of fresh air you’re gonna get in a long, long time!”
“Just get him into the back of the van already…” the other officer chimed in mercilessly, swiftly placing himself behind the wheel of the vehicle, “…I just wanna get this night over and done with. The sooner we get that little bastard outta here…the better.”
That’s all they saw me as; their little bastard. But in the all-seeing eyes of the Big City, the place that had cradled me as one of its many love-lost children since the moment of my conception, I was something different. I was so much more.
I was an action-hero, a champion…a sinner and a saint all wrapped into one! I was an all-conquering hero for every drunken deadbeat who called this place their home. A white knight with a warrior’s soul. A subjugator of sorrow. A vanquisher of pain! An ignominious poster-boy peering up towards the orange tinted horizon with every other outcast and castaway that had tragically toppled from their perch. Yet, at the same time…I was helpless and alone. A man about to meet his end, one way or another…
We were already circling our way back to the precinct. The two blue shirts up front were busy puffing away on their cigarettes as we were forced to wait at every stop-sign. I was stuck in the back, meanwhile. Rattling away on the cold metal benches with an equally sturdy set of metal handcuffs fastened around my wrists.
I had been left to my own devices. Disregarded and dishonoured with only a flimsy partitioner grill separating my raging fists from the back of their heads.
“I don’t know how the hell you thought you were gonna get away with it!” spoke the cop riding ahead in the passenger’s seat, “…what did you expect to happen!? You didn’t think anyone would hear the noise of the gunshots? Or the sound of her screaming like that!?”
I remained deadly silent in the face of his child-like taunts.
Yet the loudmouthed cop was not easily deterred. He sat there all hefty and proud, his big walrus-inspired moustache weighing heavy upon his upper lip. The broad shouldered officer swayed lightly from side to side. You could just about make out the small tufts of red hair poking out from underneath his hat, as well as the distinctive gap in his front teeth whenever he peered up into the rearview mirror to slander me some more.
“I mean it…” he continued, this time turning around to face me through the grill, “…what kind of dumb twisted fuck does something like that!? Next time you think to murder some good-for-nothing gal in your own goddamn apartment, at least get the job done properly!”
“Leave it Pennyfeather…” spoke the other cop alongside him, “…leave it to the guys at the precinct. They’ll have their way with this one, don’t you worry.”
Pennyfeather. Officer Pennyfeather. Now, where had I heard that name before…?
The cop took no pleasure in silencing his foul words and fork-tongued attacks. But at least it gave the situation the chance to breathe for a couple of precious seconds. I felt each moment tick by like falling leaves in the faded autumn sky.
The Big City, however, stood proud and unassuming, sliding past through the rear window one jaded snapshot after the next. The neon lights and yellow street lamps bathed us in a warm hazy glow as we crept past in slow, stalking fashion. The blinking skyline above smiled and winked down at us without any appraisal of blame. Its picture perfect backdrop already played host to all manner of nefarious scoundrels and scumbags cruelly cast to the gutter.
Tonight they split white rocks in darkened alleyways, tip-toeing their way past the heavy sirens and scores of broken windows. The showgirls in fancy dress were matched only by the hoods on the corner, whilst countless lost pups danced with wolves under the twinkle of yellow moonlight. It was a world of romance and lust.
A world that had eased me through some of my darkest times...
My father had beaten me under the careful watch of the Big City. I had sold my first cut beneath its dreary veil of clouds and abandoned buildings. My grave-robber cousin had even shot a man in cold blood right in front of me when I was just ten-years-old…all with this metropolis of wickedness subtly peering on. "Blame it on the Big City!" they would tell me, "Blame it on your momma working three jobs just to keep a roof over your little head! Blame it on those homeless beggars in their ragged clothes clogging up the streets! And blame it on that crew of dirty pig officers working the nightshift at the precinct, taking those poor kids down to the basement when they ain’t got nowhere else to stay..."
That’s when it all came flooding back to me. A canyon of emotional scarring tearing open at the seams. A torrent of childhood trauma seeping through on every street corner.
I remembered one of those ‘dirty pig officers’ my cousin would endlessly rant about. I recalled the flow of his devilish red hair whenever he would bend down to corner us. I recollected his big bushy whiskers obscuring the lines in his face when he would hide away his shiny police badge. And the missing tooth in his mouth, of course...from when this one kid got wise and decided to hit the bastard back.
Uncle Pennyfeather, they called him. The type of cop no kid wanted to run into.
Especially on a night like tonight...
“Let’s stop here for a moment…” the officer behind the wheel motioned suddenly, “…I gotta take a leak.”
The driver suddenly proceeded to remove himself from the vehicle, sliding up to a dark row of bushes by the side of the road without another word spoken. Soon he was away and out of sight. It gave me the chance to share some of my thoughts with Officer Pennyfeather…reminding him that the Big City ain’t always as big as it seems.
“So Pennyfeather…” I spoke calmly from the back seat, “…time hasn’t been so kind to you I see.”
The cop peered back from his perch with an air of apprehension.
“Oh yes, Pennyfeather…” I continued, half my face still sunken within the shadows of the van, “…you might look a little different. A little older and a little more tired, but don’t think your seedy ways have escaped you. You’ll always be known as ‘Uncle Pennyfeather’ around here…”
Suddenly his eyes widened and his expression no longer appeared quite so smug. Outside his partner signalled towards the all-night convenience store with an outstretched finger. It bought us a few more minutes of much needed quality time together in the van…
“I remember you Uncle Pennyfeather…” he heard me probe a little further, “…I remember all about what you got up to in your younger days, all those young boys who were forced to endure your company on those cold winter nights…”
“Enough!” he roared, slamming his fists upon the dashboard.
But Officer Pennyfeather was already sinking…
“Let’s make a deal…” I told him in no uncertain terms, “…how about we do things like this; you unlock these handcuffs, right here and now. You open the back of this van and you let me go with no questions asked…then, I’ll see fit to keep my mouth shut, Pennyfeather. You won’t have to worry about your sordid little past ever cropping up like this again…”
The cop remained sat in silence. He fingered his moustache up and down a while, no longer grinning like a little self-satisfied alley cat.
Pennyfeather’s previous jibes seemed to have abandoned him. I could see him leafing through the murky pages of his future, watching the rough metal bars of solitary confinement slide by one at a time. The troubled officer was busy contemplating all those wicked whispers that would soon make their way through the precinct, all the framed photos in his office that would have to come down, and the large state pension that would soon go to waste.
“No…” he finally responded, “…no can do. You’re a criminal! I don’t bargain with criminals, boy! You'll have to pay for what you’ve done.”
“Oh Pennyfeather, when will you learn!?” I laughed, cackling like a madman in the confinement of the backseat, “…get yourself behind the wheel quickly, before your partner gets back. Otherwise he’s gonna hear all about your past…escapades!”
Again the cop stayed tight-lipped. His brow was furrowed and his hands were starting to shake. I could sense that he was ill at ease. And soon, those fears would be put into play…
“Fine…” he muttered quietly, exiting the vehicle so that he could take up a seat on the driver’s side.
It was as easy as that. Suddenly I was beginning to have my way with the immoral beacon of authority that had been planted in my path. Suddenly the power dynamic had shifted, shifted into the hands of a wanted criminal who had just killed his girlfriend in the back room of his apartment. Suddenly, everything was falling into place.
We sped off abruptly in a trail of rustled leaves and smoky exhaust fumes. All while the other cop was left stranded in the middle of the road. The oblivious officer held his hastily gathered six-pack and salted potato chips aloft with a staggered expression upon his face. He had foolishly left his radio and the rest of his equipment behind in the van. The same van that had just disappeared into the night without a second thought...
“Listen up…” Officer Pennyfeather suddenly declared, with his poor confused partner rapidly drifting away in the rearview mirror, “…I’m gonna drive ahead a little, somewhere private and quiet, then…we’ll see about letting you go, ok?”
On this occasion it was my turn to remain silent, peering ahead at the unsettled police officer with my wry smile flitting through the darkness.
I subsequently gazed up at the metal grill separating Officer Pennyfeather and I, noticing just how flimsy it appeared when observed close up…and just how easy it would be to break through the frail metal wiring should I feel so inclined...
“Don’t try anything stupid…” spoke Pennyfeather again, as if the officer were somehow reading the string of sinister thoughts dancing through my mind, “…there’s a camera in the dashboard right here. It won’t hear us, but it will see everything unless I decide to cut the power. So sit tight until I say so. That’s the only option right now…”
But I did not want to sit tight. I did not want to wait either. I wanted to wring that evil bastard’s neck for all the muddy life he still had in him. I wanted to shove my handcuffed wrists straight through the grill and make that deranged fucker pay for what he had done all those years ago.
So that’s exactly what I did…
“Aaarrrgghhh!” he cried, the moment he felt my fingers grasping around his windpipe.
The metal grill provided little protection for the sour-faced officer in the end. His squat, pinkish neck put up even less of a fight…
“Wha…what are you doing!?” the cop wailed like a baby, desperately thrashing around in his ill-fated attempts to escape my vicious clutches, “…get off me you maniac!”
Yet his words had fallen upon deaf ears. I went for Officer Pennyfeather with all the brutal savagery of a wild beast. The caged animal inside me struck him one swipe after the other. Pennyfeather started to shriek. His eyes began to bulge and his veins would soon threaten to pop right out of his skin. As the blood started to stream from his neck I wished only for one distant thought to befall him; the cries of all those innocent young boys ringing in his head, and the tracks of their tears etched in his mind for a lifetime and more to come.
“Please…” he begged, hastily running out of breath, “…please, stop.”
I didn’t care. The van began to swerve left and right, causing all manner of chaos on the road up ahead. People on the sidewalk proceeded to watch and stare as the madness played out. They clutched their loved ones close in fear of what would happen next, or else…gleefully grasped for their cameras in order to capture the wild scene as it unravelled.
Before long the front wheel of the vehicle would violently strike the curb, sending the van headfirst into a nearby fire hydrant where it would stay toppled on its side. The van would never move again after that. The benches inside had trapped my legs into an immovable position. Officer Pennyfeather, meanwhile, was already on his last gasps…
…and the camera was still rolling.
“Why…?” the police officer spluttered one final time, “…why would you do such a thing? I…thought you wanted to be free!? Now I’m gonna die, and you’ll be locked away for life…”
I never did respond to the poor, defenceless cop in that precise moment. I simply sat back and observed as his final waking breath left him for good.
Soon more cops would show up on the scene and wonder what had taken place. They would scratch their chins in disbelief as they watched the bizarre series of events unfold through the dashboard camera playback button. News crews from all over would eventually come to report on the collapsed police van destined to meet its messy end on the corner of the street. They would all want to know what really went down that night.
And I would tell them…
“Just like the scorpion…” I would say, “…I killed Officer Pennyfeather not as the result of a terrible accident, not in response to something he had said, or something I had unknowingly succumbed to. But for one reason and one reason only…
…because I am a criminal, and that…
…is my nature.”
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