Thursday, November 14, 2013

Memories of St. Louis (5b of 5): Night Previous (Last Drink).



On the way home I stopped for a gyro at a 4am bar with a late kitchen, since I was a bit hungry.

To my right were 2 (mid-20s) (white) (hipster-looking) guys, one a (thin) guy in a porkpie hat, and the other a (heavier) (slightly bearded) guy in dark jeans and a thin red plastic-y jacket like from the 80s and thick-rimmed black glasses – and from their talk, it turns out they were both cops.

The one in dark jeans said that if he used force wrongly and killed a (black) guy, he’d pick off the parents too, rather than put up with the bullshit.

The other guy nodded and totally agreed, like the world had wounded him.

Later, the one in dark jeans said that the next time a female partner goes all bleeding heart and tells him to calm down with force, he’ll take her down to the prison and let her find good in the guys there and just stand there while she gets raped.

Again, the other guy nodded and totally agreed, like the world had wounded him.

When I was getting ready to leave, they were talking about “comrade Obama”.

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