Fiction.

The blurry man-shaped blob seemed to be talking to me or at least talking in my general direction. I couldn’t quite make out what it was saying, but it seemed rather serious. Also, something I previously ate tasted suspiciously like vomit. The blob spoke up:

“Could you please step back onto the sidewalk? Sir. Step onto the sidewalk.”

James stepped out into the street, took my drunk ass stumbling with him, and looked after the blonde — Amelia — wistfully. Actually, he is way too much of an asshole to feel wistful. I’m sure he was trying to get a better view of her tight jean cutoffs bouncing into the night. The fading rhythmic sway of her ass reminded me of something I’d done and regretted but couldn’t quite call to mind.

“Sir I’m going to ask you one more time: step back onto the sidewalk!”

James swung around to face, what was apparently, a cop while simultaneously spinning me into the front end of a parked Ford Explorer. I crumpled onto the curb. “James! Hey, asshole! Whoa … did you know these curbs were granite?” James stared at the cop, the two of them separated by six inches, poked him square in the chest, and said, “Back up dickweed, I don’t need to smell what you had for dinner.”

Even from my limited experience with cops I knew this was not the wisest of decisions for James to make. Before he could do anything, and before I could get a word in to plead our case, the officer pulled some kung-fu jedi Jackie Chan shit and had James pinned up against his squad car. “Don’t you ever touch me asshole. What could you possibly be thinking?”

“Guys, this granite curb is soooo smoooth. Seriously. Smooth?” I offered as I pressed my face on the curb.

The granite felt nice and helped my eyes focus. As I reclined on the sidewalk I looked up at James’s face — which was held firmly against the hood of the cruiser — and he winked at me. This was weird as I certainly didn’t expect him to roll like that, not that there is anything wrong with it.

Just so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea about me I explained “Brah … duuuuuuude.”

The cop pulled out his radio and began to chat it up with the sexy sounding broad on the other end of the line. James’s eyes closed as the cop began to speak. “Dispatch we’ve got a …” he paused as if looking for the proper word. “… donut. Over” he finished. Dispatch squawked out of the handheld radio, “Did you say donut?” Apparently he either did not hear dispatch’s question or didn’t give a shit because he holstered his radio and let James off of the cruiser.

“Listen,” the cop began “I’m going to let you off with a warning. That girl, Amelia, has had it pretty rough. Next time you see her leave her alone. I’m off to grab some chow. I’d suggest you hightail it home right now. Got it assholes?”

He turned to get in his car as a second squad car blew through a red light and skidded to a stop in front of our little sidewalk party. “Sanders! We’ve got a problem! Reported double murder suicide at Navy and Stuart. The radios aren’t working and we’re cut off from dispatch. We need to get over there.” Both cars sped off in the same direction of Amelia’s ass and tight jean cutoffs.

Feeling a bit sobered I stood up and stared at James.

“What just happened? Did you just call that cop a ‘dickweed?’ How did you get out of that? Double murder? Navy and Stuart? I used to bang a chick who lived at Navy and Stuart. She was totally smokin’. Seriously, what just happened?”

“God, you are such a little bitch. Give me a second, OK? James finally stepped back onto the sidewalk, turned to me, and sighed.

“Let’s just say I have a way with cops.”

Yeah, that was an understatment. “I’m going to need a better explanation than that. You basically punched that cop in the face and all he did was mumble something about donuts.”

James quickly glanced around. “You aren’t going to believe me and I’m drunk as shit — which I guess is about drunk enough to tell you: I can make cops crave donuts.”

“What?” I stared at him blankly. “Don’t all cops crave donuts? That’s like making sorority girls crave wang.”

“No man. Like. I can get into their heads, make them drop everything, and need a donut. It only works on cops, and it’s only donuts. That’s how I got out of our little fix. I made Officer Pain in My Ass realize that he needed to get over to Krispy Kreme on the double.”

I wish I had been sober. The twelve or so beers made processing this new information difficult. Maybe James had an abnormal, weird, and freakish ability just like me! It seemed overly specific and unexplainable — just like mine. He also used it to to his benefit, which, on further reflection, made me wonder just what other shady situations he had used this donut power to get out of. I decided to tell him about what I could do.

“Dude I need to tell … ” but James cut me off. He had an excited look on his face.

“Kaiser. Let’s go over to Navy and Stuart and see what the fuck went down over there. I can get us past the cops with no problem. You said you knew a girl who lived over there, don’t you want to see if she’s OK?” He smiled a thin greasy smile that, even considering how drunk I was, made me feel uncomfortable.

“James. You want us to sneak into a murder scene just so we can see ‘what went down?’”

“Kaiser. I’m going and you’re coming with me.” His eyes closed briefly and he smiled. “And you’ve got no choice asshole.”