The Journal Three (Patreon)

Mike and I worked together for over 10 years. Detectives in the APD. Mike had never settled down. Said he couldn't do that to another human being. He was a rough around the edges. Mike's biggest flaw was his greatest weakness: honesty. He practiced radical honesty before there was even a word for it. Got him in a lot of trouble with the brass. Got him in a lot of trouble with the dames.

But he may not have been marriage material, MIke was on speed dial for half the single women in the city.  He called himself Tension Emergency.  Women in need called him because he always got them off. It was a point of pride with him.

"What's your secret?" I asked him once, when he'd shown me a text from Jaunita, thanking him for "another great show."

"The mind," he said, pointing to his head. "The mind is the greatest erogenous zone. I get her off here, and I get her off down there!"

We were in the car, cruising the streets. Steam rose from the grates. "Also, absence. The fact they only see me for a few hours now is key, and I never stay the night."

"Why is that?"

"I am a total asshole in the morning, and I have the worst morning breath in the city. I am best in small doses, anyway."

"I agree with you there."

"Fuck you."

What could have happened to him? What could it all mean? I turn the page, and I read the next poem:

Her clothes scattered like

Dreams, cruel gifts dress the room

Knives for my manhood