To Catch A Rapist (Vic Musket Part 7)

Through the lens of the binoculars Vic watched a modern day Sodom. Shirtless masses shuffled about, ranging from the emaciated to the scooter-bound obese. It was difficult to tell which were covered in tattoos and which were just filthy, but you could be certain they were all dangerous. Some were only dangerous to defenseless ten year olds, but dangerous nonetheless.

It was getting dark, but that didn't mean Pedo Park was closing down for the night. Not surprisingly there was no observed curfew among the convicted sex offenders and NAMBLA recruiting scouts. After all, shameful indulgences can be performed with confidence in the dark. Vic stumbled his way to one of the few trailers that did not have country music blaring from an open window, ensuring it was currently vacant. He was looking for a rapist Puerto Rican named "Benny", and judging by the volume of confederate flags being used as curtains he wouldn't be hard to spot in a crowd. He just needed a distraction to get everyone outside, and a bright light to see their faces...

Vic tore the redneck banner from the window above him and promptly vomited into it. By his estimation his stomach had nothing but liquor and pigeon meat inside it, and the concoction should be flammable. With a quick spark from his lighter the confederate flag burst into vomit-flames, a fitting tribute to it's honor. Vic tossed the rag through the open window of the trailer and it quickly went up.

Screams, shouts, and even cheers rang out as the mouth-breathing crowd assembled to watch the fire. In this kind of community no one comes rushing to help put the fire out, and there was NO chance anyone was calling 911. Vic peered out at the sea of Caucasian faces, but saw no Benny. Circling the crowd he turned his attention to the surrounding trailers and caught a glimpse of a dark skinned man sheepishly looking out of a window, clearly a paranoid outsider here.

Vic made a direct line to the trailer, carefully drawing his .38 as he opened the door. "What the fuck!" yelled the man, startled by the armed vagrant storming into his home. "Don't move, Benny. Killing rapists is one of my favorite passtimes, but it doesn't have to be that way." Vic shouted, his revolver punctuating his statement.

"You aren't from the Cangiani family, are you?" Benny asked, seeming relieved. "No I am not." Vic said as he pulled a half empty bottle of rum from a kitchen shelf. "Even worse. I was sent by the father of the teenage girl you raped. He wanted me to bring him an uncircumcised souvenir."

Benny burst into laughter. After a few moments he gathered himself. "You think I raped that girl? Mister, you are being lied to. Let me tell you what the fuck is going on, and then you will let me go." He seemed confident, like someone who was actually telling the truth. "This had better be good" Vic said doubtingly, "or else I swear, I will freeze one of my shits, stab you with it, and break it off. Now start talking, and remember that your neighbors wouldn't mind listening to your screams for hours at this time of night."

Vic was worried that he was about to learn more about this case than he wanted to. Good thing Benny only drank half of this bottle of booze.


To be continued...