Might vs Right ~ Jill Freedman (1968)
“Is everything alright sir” said the policeman, finding it unnecessary to whistle any in or out of tune tune. No room for that sort of frivolity inside a policeman’s black uniform; and besides, the silver whistle around his neck more than compensated for any loss of frivolity.
“Are we lost sir?” Atom was confused by the policeman’s amazing ability not to ask real questions.
Apart from the whistle, a policeman’s life is rather a grim one, dealing as it does in misery and misdemeanour. It is in honour of the seriousness of his duties that a policeman carries a baton; one which is easy to swing and hard on the causes of crime.
“Wot’s your name sir?”
“…erm Atom”
“Erm Atom?”
“…erm yes”
“Right Mr Atom, may I inquire as to what you are doing in the cemetery at night?”
“…”
For the innocent man it is difficult to know the correct answer to a policeman’s questions / For the guilty man it is far easier since he would have made the answers up earlier.
“Loitering” Said the policeman.
The pious man chose that moment to make his presence known by phlemulously clearing his throat.
“Do you know this man Your Holiness?” asked the policeman, his tone now turned professional.
“We have only just met,” said the pious man, “He came looking for something; apparently believing himself free of sin since he appeared disinclined to make (or is it take?) confession. I feel duty bound before the community (and before God) to voice the suspicion that he is either hiding something or hiding from something.”
The policeman hit Atom across the head with his baton.
Somewhere a fuse-wire melted and the lights went out.
“Are we lost sir?” Atom was confused by the policeman’s amazing ability not to ask real questions.
Apart from the whistle, a policeman’s life is rather a grim one, dealing as it does in misery and misdemeanour. It is in honour of the seriousness of his duties that a policeman carries a baton; one which is easy to swing and hard on the causes of crime.
“Wot’s your name sir?”
“…erm Atom”
“Erm Atom?”
“…erm yes”
“Right Mr Atom, may I inquire as to what you are doing in the cemetery at night?”
“…”
For the innocent man it is difficult to know the correct answer to a policeman’s questions / For the guilty man it is far easier since he would have made the answers up earlier.
“Loitering” Said the policeman.
The pious man chose that moment to make his presence known by phlemulously clearing his throat.
“Do you know this man Your Holiness?” asked the policeman, his tone now turned professional.
“We have only just met,” said the pious man, “He came looking for something; apparently believing himself free of sin since he appeared disinclined to make (or is it take?) confession. I feel duty bound before the community (and before God) to voice the suspicion that he is either hiding something or hiding from something.”
The policeman hit Atom across the head with his baton.
Somewhere a fuse-wire melted and the lights went out.
4 comments:
art mirrors life mirrors art-- so much here in this perverse little piece.
favourite word: phlemulously. and the double speak was sublime.
Harlequin: this is not art, it is science :)
Not reading yet, just marking my spot. Had a busy February.
4.7! Be back soon.
See? If he kept the tie, he could've whooped some ass.
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