I Fought The Law, Part II/ Short Note


A short note:  For those of you who read this space normally, what you are seeing now, and have been seeing for awhile is me practicing longer form writing.  At one point I had a separate page to do that, but it turned out to be too difficult to do that way.  Long form writing and a regular article every day simply became untenable.

And for a while I gave up on it.  But I am back to trying to write longer form stuff, and while I am at it I am also trying to write fiction.  Action is something I have had a problem writing in the past.  Which is where this story and the last one came from, trying to work on that.

All this longer form writing doesn’t mean that the political/news/sports commentary has gone the way of the dodo, it just means it’s temporarily on the back burner. Maybe once a week, unless it is called for.

My writing is not always the best, but what I am doing here is trying to work out the kinks in my writing in public, not the easiest thing in the world to do.  If there is any writing advice, or any advice you have at all, by all means pass it this way.  Any help you can give me on my road to becoming a better writer would be helpful.

I am going to end this story tonight after this and the first of two Monet’s.  I think I’ll be starting a new longer form story tomorrow, I think.  Longer than either of the last two stories.

I know that most of you stop by to look at the pictures, and that is excellent.  In time I hope to get people to come over to read my work.

In time.

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Pic of the day, part i:  Three trees in Grey Weather, by Claude Monet

_______________________

To hate injustice and stand on righteousness is a difficult thing. Furthermore, to think that being righteous is the best one can do and to do one’s utmost to be righteous will, on the contrary, bring many mistakes.

Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure

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Continued from part i:

The four officers who were closest struck like lightning.  The seven or eight officers behind them weren’t slower, they were just further away, but did their damnedest to make sure that this big bastard paid for laying out two of their brothers.

Tasers came out.

Batons were out.

Fists were clenched and used.

The first officer to reach Ed after he laid out Officer Pecana and his linemate, officer Wilson was an officer who had served in both Iraq and Afghanistan, and had fought tooth and nail to save wounded buddies, and had been a police officer for several years.  He was a man known for his physical strength, and was the best SDI(Self-Defense Instructor) the force had known.

Normally he would keep his emotions in check. Normally he was the guy telling everyone else to relax.  Here he was a ball of energy and anger.  He pullout his baton and in one smooth movement took the tip of the baton and slammed it with all the force he could muster into Ed’s ribs.  Upon striking his ribs, he immediately brought his elbow up to hit ed in the chin, then brought that elbow back in order to get a third strike out of a single movement.

He did not need that second elbow.  The baton did the job, and broke three of Ed’s ribs and he started to collapse when the first elbow nailed his chin.  The second elbow missed high, as Ed was already out of reach and falling away.

Two of the officers behind him fired tasers at Ed.  Both missed, but one of the two hit the girl Ed was protecting, hit her in the back, as she was getting up and trying to get herself out of the area.  The fourth officer, seeing Ed go down, immediately put himself into position to kneel upon Ed’s neck, just in case he needed to control him that way.  But he decided to start punching Ed in the face.  He watched two of his buddies catch hell and he wanted this big bastard pay for it.

Then a swarm of officers were on him.  Kicking and punching as they could whenever they got a half an inch to strike.

When the police swarmed on Ed, the entire crowd gave way, not wanting to be on the wrong end of a severe beating.  They knew the cops, and they saw what happened.  They weren’t stupid, they backed the hell up.

Ed curled up in a ball to protect himself as best as he could.  He yelled, he screamed, he begged them to stop.  After a little while, they did.

The one officer knelt on his neck, with a second one sitting on his back with one knee on Ed’s elbow.  Two more were holding down his legs.

Ed was begging, praying for the pain to stop, hoping he would make it out of  it alive.  He was cuffed and pulled to his feet after the officers felt they had Ed under control.

Officer:”Big fuck went down quick, didn’t ya?  Stupid fuck!”

Second Officer:”He ain’t caught half the ass whipping he deserved, asshole!”

Third officer: “What the fuck were you thinking, mothafucka?”

Officer Pecana got up a few seconds after the beating was done, nose still bleeding.  He looked to his left, and saw his buddy on the ground, and went to help him.

Pecana:  “Bill? What happened?”

Bill: “The fuck hit me with your baton. I fell down on someone…” he said this while pointing his thumb behind him “behind me.  Blocked it with my arm.  I’m fine.  You look like you need a paramedic.  Your nose is flatter than a manhole cover.”

He smiled at Pecana as he got up, then offered Pecana a hand.  Several officers around them asked if they were ok, while helping them both to get checked out by the paramedics, while a few moved in to control the crowd, which was easy as the protestors were still not in the mood to do anything with the cops.  They were peaceful, and made it certain that the cops knew that, by complying with any and all commands they gave as fast as they gave them.

Ed was unceremoniously dragged off to the paddy wagon.  The stunned crowd did nothing. It normally would have, several times they had chanted and cajoled and yelled at the cops when they hauled someone off to the paddy wagon, but not this time.

There was still anger at the powers that be, which included the police.  But that anger was momentarily stunted by the violent events that unfolded in front of them.

The End.

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Pic of the day, part ii:  Poplars in The Sun, by Claude Monet

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Although all things are not to be judged in this manner, I mention it in the investigation of the Way of the Samurai. When the time comes, there is no moment for reasoning. And if you have not done your inquiring beforehand , there is most often shame. Reading books and listening to people’s talk are for the purpose of prior resolution.

Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Hagakure

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That’s it from here, America.  G’night.

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