I'll just admit it right off the bat. I don't like policemen, not one little bit. It isn't that I have any big crime planned or that I've ever committed any - I just don't like the cops I've run into during my life.

Of course it's possible I always happen to run into policemen that are not truly representative of the upstanding moral fiber of the majority, but I doubt the fuck out of that, personally. No matter the specifics of the situation, every cop I'd ever dealt with in his or her professional capacity was a dyed in the wool smart alec shitass.

Maybe they teach 'em to be assholes in policeman school or something. Whatever. I don't like the cocksuckers one little bit. It's a safe bet most of them would be distressed about this if I told them face-to-face, and no doubt a ruckus would start up. Normally you'd think the one in the ruckus with a policeman would end up in jail, and normally he would. But I wasn't normal, hadn't been since three forty-seven yesterday afternoon.

Policemen aren't the only ones I don't like though. I don't like lawyers, judges, most bureaucrats, or any politicians of any party. To top it all off I don't like terrorists worth a shit either and preachers aren't fit company for anybody as far as I'm concerned.

In fact, I was looking a little bit forward to my upcoming death. It wasn't like there was a ten-day countdown or anything like that. It would be within the next few years though, because my ticker didn't tick just right anymore.

I didn't know exactly what was wrong with it, because I didn't have the money to find out. People that are too proud to file for disability until they just can't do a damned thing anymore should take a warning from me. If you go too long scraping by without filing, you could end up going past the recent quarters limit. Best to file for it before you need it, just in case. That little detail just added to the bone I thought I had to pick with politicians.

There I was yesterday, driving to Wal-Mart in a car with expired tags, no insurance, and I didn't even have a valid driver's license. Wouldn't you know it, a damned off duty city policeman cut over in front of me in his personal car and clipped my front fender. What a fucking bummer. I knew this would normally be time in the pokey for me, even though I didn't do a damned thing wrong in this limited specific instance

It was an off duty city cop and I knew the shitass. We'd never had a personal run in, because I was usually pretty careful not to get into any shit. It was a small town and I stayed at home most of the time and out of the way of people. Still I knew about Jasper Conner.

He was a big man and relatively stupid. He enjoyed his position of authority more than a lot of people thought he should too. He hopped out of his car ranting, raving, and cussing a blue streak. He headed right back to me and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he intended to yank my door open and see about jerking me out of the car. It got right on my last nerve.

When he yanked the door open, as I'd expected, I shot him right in the pump. Talk about a surprised look on a cop's face. Of course being the self-important turd that he was, the 45's bullet only knocked him over backwards onto his ass, knocking the wind out of him in the process. He had his city issued police bulletproof vest on under his civvy shirt.

Didn't do him one fucking bit of good though. I stepped out of the car and let him have one in his left eye. He wasn't wearing a vest up there. He was really surprised right at the last, for about a quarter of a second.

Yeh, I knew I was up shit creek now. Even my small town police department wasn't going to fuck up this investigation - like they did the one when a young woman was strangled in her home and her kids were drowned in the bathtub, eight years ago.

I didn't even give a shit. I sat back down in my car and waited for the fuckers to get here. About that time my car did a trick I didn't realize it could. It disappeared, reappearing parked in the Wal-Mart parking lot, right in the handicapped parking spot that my sun visor's hanging sign said I was entitled to use. What the fuck?

I got out for lack of being able to think of anything else to do. Damn, I still had the M1911A1 semi-automatic colt in my hand. I bent over and put it back in its holster and slid the holster under the seat. Standing out by the car again I saw jumping to the Wal-Mart handicapped parking spot wasn't its only trick.

Glory Hallelujah! My car had been healed. The missing front bumper was back in place and all the damage from the time my brother had drunkenly run it through the roadside nest of traffic signs was gone. Hell, the body was perfect, even the windshield was crackless again.

Damn, there was a valid looking inspection sticker and license sticker down in the lower driver's side corner of the windshield too, in place of the two expired examples that had been there back when the windshield was cracked all over, about ninety seconds ago.

I laughed like hell, locked the car, and walked into Wal-Mart. They were having a big sale on Ranch Style Beans and Wolf Brand Chili.

I picked up two cases of chili and four of ranch style beans then rolled on and grabbed a big bag of dry dog food. No, I wasn't going to add dog food to my chili and beans. It was near the first of the month and my food stamp card sill had plenty of room on it. Hell, I felt so much better over the dream I was having that I went to the bakery case and scored a raspberry coffee cake.

At the self-serve checkout I scanned my items and then swiped my food stamp card, waiting to see how much money I'd need to put in for the dog food. Hell, the machine spit out a receipt and told me Thank you for shopping Wal-Mart. I had to check the paperwork to see if the dog food had been charged and it had, but the food stamp card had paid for it without squawking a note. What the hell, this was all a dream anyway.