A Theory of Knowledge by Thomas A. Roll

Author:Thomas A. Roll [Roll, Thomas A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626758803
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Freddie felt a dull, throbbing pain in his head. It seemed to radiate all the way down his back and through to his stomach. He was laying facedown on something very hard. Managing to open his eyes, he saw only a slight blur, then there was instant pain shooting through his eyelids and intensifying within his brains. He felt like shit. Anytime he tried any sudden move the pain in his head stopped him.

He very slowly opened his eyes again and let his vision clear enough to see that he was on a vinyl tile covered floor. His eyes told him he was, indeed, on the floor. His body told him he was spread-eagled with his right forehead laying – no, being hammered – to the floor. His brains told him he was suffering from a massive hangover. Gently curling himself into a ball, he rolled over onto one side, placing his poor, throbbing head onto an arm. It didn’t help.

He peered across the floor to a door and adjoining empty walls. It sounded as if footsteps were coming down a long hall. They stopped at the door. There was some jingling of keys, then the door opened with a loud, irritating scrape across the floor, letting in a loud, irritating light and a loud irritating voice.

“It looks like he’s alive,” said a loud, sarcastic voice.

“Okay, I’ll take it from here,” said another voice as the owner of the second voice stepped through the door.

“Hello, Freddie”, said Detective Sturgeman, who was obviously disgusted at the human trash he saw sprawled across the floor.

Freddie groaned a barely audible, “Hmm?”

“You’re in the drunk tank, Freddie,” offered the unsympathetic detective, “You’ve also been charged with DUI, wreckless driving, felony trespassing, and damaging private property after driving through the window of a bar downtown. You had quite a night.”

Freddie closed his eyes. Can’t this loud, irritating man just go away? He seemed to be enjoying his narration.

“We’ve also gotten missing person reports from a Dorothy Llorat and a Ronnie Geiler,” added Sturgeman, staring down at this putrid excuse for human existence. He had a job to do, however, and he was required to do it.

“Consider yourself under protective custody, Freddie,” Sturgeman directed, “because we’ve also obtained more information concerning those cell phone death threats.”

Freddie was hardly comprehending anything other than the banging sounds the voice of the detective was making in his head. He opened his dry lips and whispered, “Orange juice.”

The loathing detective shook his head and stalked out the door, deliberately slamming it shut behind him, knowing the impact it would have on Freddie. Freddie’s whole body cringed at the sharp, loud retort as the noise reverberated from one side of his aching head to the other. He was preparing to die.

Death wasn’t offered to him at that moment, however. Instead, about ten minutes later he heard a solitary set of footsteps coming down the hall. The door opened to a Freddie now sitting on the floor propped up against a wall.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.