Retribution: Part 1

VROOOOOOOOOMMM! SCREEEEECH!

The first step I take outside jail is near-fatal. Some crazy chap wanting to get home before someone got him back in the slammer. As a parting gift, I also got to hear some select expletives.

That’s what I experienced after 14 years of nerve-jangling jail time. Near-death. And profanity.

Maybe, just maybe, I deserved it. After all, I had run down a little kid in an open park. Yep, I was drunk, well and truly. 14 years it’s been, and I remember the incident as clear as daylight.

Or do I? No… I don’t remember the kid’s face all that well… but I was driving, for sure…

Meanwhile, in another part of the city...

“He’s out of jail, boss.”

“Who?”

“Reverend John II… of course you know who I’m talking about! Sam, that’s who!”

“He’s nobody. Why are you fretting? He has NO idea why he went to jail. Thinks he knocked over some pretty kid. He’ll probably run into you and give you a big hug.”

“Obviously, you haven’t read The Count of Monte Cristo?”

“That Dumas guy’s book? Yeah, I’ve read it. But there’s a slight difference—the count actually KNEW what to look for and whom to target. Sam has NO idea. Get a life, Rocky.”

“I don’t know boss… it’s giving me a bad feeling…”

“Chill man… I’ve got tickets to the game tonight… joining in?”

“Ummm, actually…”

“A couple of lady friends would be coming along too…”

“Sure… why not! Perhaps that should cheer me up…”

TO BE CONTINUED