Milo II

“…so I toss Milo in the cell”

“No kidding, he was, what, 12 at the time?”

“A tad over 13.”

“Granted that was a dang small jail with rarely a hard core criminal within it, but didn’t you figure that it was going to traumatize him?”

“Well, one could have hoped. He could have benefited at that age with a bit of traumatization given the mischief he was engaged in that one. But sadly, no, I think even back then I knew it was no benefit to put him in the clink. But that Milo kid, he was heading in a bad direction making all the poor decisions he was making. He had a savant penchant for being anti authority. Maybe I was a bit desperate. 

Anyhow, he was the only one in the cell that day. And it was quiet up until we got the news about the missing girl. Then suddenly Milo and all his trouble wasn’t really that important.”

“I imagine not. That was quite a thing.”

“Yeah, that’d be one way to put it. Another would be ‘god damned awful’ and that is trying to keep it as polite as possible. Don’t get me started on all that awful stuff.”

“So then what happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened. Me and Curtis were talking about how awful that news was and how the Cotters were going to go through hell trying to survive devastating from the devil. We were so taken aback from that news. God I hate talking about it even now.

Anyhow, we entirely forgot Milo back in the cell. We had paused a second and I think maybe Curtis sobbed a bit. I’m sure we both did. Suddenly I hear, pardon my language, “Chicken Shits!” And immediately I know the its source of origin so to speak was coming out the back of the cell and very specifically right out of the mouth of one Milo E. Otis. 

And he didn’t stop there. He went on a little tear of other such and started talking to us in a heavily derogatory manner from the back of the cell. I won’t repeat most of it but he said multiple times that we was nothing but just a god damn bunch of chicken shits. Probably seven or eight I’d guess.

Well Curtis just about lost is damn mind and he goes striding back to that cell as fast as his 38 inseam can carry his heavy ass. He starts yelling about how he is going to show Milo who’s a chicken shit and that he was going to beat Milo’s ass. 

I’m professional. I’m on the up and up and so I see that Curtis is whipping his jail cell key out fast as can be so I come back to my senses and start reigning Curtis back in, Milo all the while goin on and on about us being chicken shits and all.

So I tell Milo he needs to shut his trap if he knows whats best for him and then he starts asking us why the blankity blank are we sheriffs if we aint helping bring down the bad guys. I tell him him… fuck all… I’m sorry, I’m getting impolitely wound up just retelling it.

Anyhow, I tell him he don’t know the law. You can’t just go out vigilante style and beat down whomever you see fit to blame for whatever. He says he’d do so if that was what was needed doing. I tell you sometimes that boy makes as much sense as he doesn’t.

He then says that if we let him out, he’ll go and find out who did it and would bring him in to us to do as we see fit. That we could then place him back in the very cell in which he sat. I told him he aint law enforcement and he best just leave matters to us. He just shook his head and looked at us as though we were pathetic wet dogs with no barn.