April Fool's Day

Jeremiah Hawthorne- April 10,2009

       I'll be damned if I don't get sent out to a crime scene in the middle of the Arizona desert on the hottest day of the fucking year. That's one of the perks you get for working at Phoenix Metro, as if I have another choice- Phoenix is all I've known my whole life. The same applies to my partner and best friend, Gerad Paulson. Gerad and I have been best friends since grade school, and we both share this same unreasonable love for Phoenix and its surroundings. As much as we love it, however, it was too damn hot today. It has me considering packing my bags and moving somewhere much colder- somewhere like Alaska. 

   I ponder what I know about the living conditions in Alaska for quite some time before my thoughts get interrupted by my cell phone, the ringtone singing out "Sitting On the Dock of the Bay". The screen reads: GERAD PAULSON, and I know what the bastard is calling about just like twins know what each other are thinking without saying a word. Gerad starts talking before I even put my phone to my ear. 

"What happenin', Jer? I was thinking about grabbing a bite before we hit the crime scene. It's quite the fuckin' drive, and I'll get hungry before we're even halfway there".  Of course, Gerad is hungry- the bastard is always hungry. He has the worst sweet tooth I have ever seen and for the whole duration I've known him, too. Hell, we became friends when he offered to share his Peanut M&Ms with me at school lunch. The thought makes me smile before I realize that he's waiting on my reply. "Sure, bud. We can meet at Marge's before we go to the scene. We shouldn't be up there long- it looks like a cut-and-dry, vagrant case". Gerad laughs as if he disagrees with me and says, "Anything you say, Sherlock. I'll meet you at the diner in forty-five", and then I hear the line go dead. I would consider this rude if it were anybody else, but I'm used to this treatment from him. I'll be sure to get his ass back later. 

       I walk into my one-bedroom apartment, and the silence ricochets back at me like an air soft pellet- so much for wife and kids. It's not that I don't want the whole "white picket fence" dream, it's just that I don't have time for it- I give all my time to Metro, and I don't put myself out there enough. Gerad was wired different- that fella jumps on women like a dog getting let into a kennel full of bitches for the first time. I really don't see how the has the time- I always joke with him and say that he has a sweet tooth for more than just confection. 

I laugh at this old joke but then the feelings of loneliness flood over me, and I instantly dread having to go to the crime scene. I wish I could just avoid everything, and go to sleep. I have been deprived of proper rest lately- this job will do that to you over time. You see sights that make the corny horror flicks teens watch today seem like Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. 

I sit down for a while on my love seat with an exhaustion weighing on me like a bomb strapped to my chest. I rub the temples of head, and try to prepare myself for the case at hand. A male body was found at the foot of a ravine at approximately 3:00 A.M by some partying teenagers. The photos I have seen look to me like it is a vagabond who most likely dehydrated in the desert and died of thirst. The corpse looks rather bloated, even in photos, and that means it will be quite difficult to find the cause of death due to decomposition.  One never gets used to seeing dead bodies- their lifeless gray eyes staring into yours, although you know they can see no more. 

The thought of bodies and decomposition does nothing to prepare me for the road ahead. I turn my thoughts to proper revenge on Gerad. "I'll think of something", I say to myself with a smirk.