Joke’s on you I have no assets to seize

I wonder how many crimes scenes I’ve put in my review mirror.  I could figure out that number by going back and reading through this blog.  That would be crazy, too many posts.  Who would want to read all that?  Kinda defeats the purpose of the whole thing.  Maybe I should have dated them.   

I thought about bailing this time.  Instead I levitated down to the guy I threw over the side of the bridge.  He was alive with compound fractures in both legs.  That’s probably why he was unconscious, passed out because those compound factures are a real bear.   

I felt no sense of relief that I hadn’t killed him.  I found myself feeling that I would have been fine if he was dead.  Not a great development emotionally.  They say apathy is a coping technique.  Maybe I need to start using my therapy every day.   

When I levitated back up with him the guy in the suit was on his phone talking about how he was going to sue everyone.  I set down broken legs Mcgee and blew up suit guy’s phone.  I didn’t mean to do that, I was just trying to turn it off, but it exploded against his face and he spun around a couple times like he was doing a weird dance.   

Everyone else was staring at me except the soccer mom, I didn’t see where she was.   

Suit guy had one hand pressed to his scorched cheek and waved the other in my face “I’m going to sue you!  I’m going to sue everyone here!” 

“That’s your takeaway here?  You just saw me do a bunch of magic shit and you’re concerned about a lawsuit?” 

He sneered a truly pride obliterating sneer “Honey, I’ve been working magic my whole career, wait until we get in that court room.” 

I wanted to hit him a lot but I didn’t.  Because I’m a big damn hero.   

I turned to the Kia kid and one buddy who was still standing “Are you going to shoot at me anymore?” 

They both shook their heads and I turned to everyone else “So, we have two dead bodies and this guy here with busted legs.   Not to mention bullet holes and shell casings.  What do you want to do?  Call the cops and cook up some kind of story?  Or should we all just go our separate ways?” 

“What is happening?!” asked the young woman who was stuck to Randy like glue. 

I looked around “Uh, well, somehow an old comedian from like the 60s learned a magic technique to fight these bug people, sort of, and he taught another comedian how to do it.  But that guy’s dead.  Now I’m just guessing here, but I think these bug people were going to kill Randy, or torture him, because they thought he knew how to do that too.  Do you Randy?” 

He looked like he was thinking about jumping off the bridge again “I don’t . . . I don’t . . . . I don’t . . . what?!” 

I gestured “Well there you go, sounds like they made a bad call there.  You should probably call your dad if he’s still alive, if he’s the one who knew Chubby maybe he’s the one they’re after.”