In the Nick of Time Read Online Free PDF Page A

confiscated and put in their proper places. A few moments later, the soiled sheets were changed. The woman had leaked all over the damn place. Ahhhh yes, more memories of his romp filtered inside his fractured brain. He’d never seen so much pussy juice gush out of a twat in his entire life. It had intrigued and delighted him all at once.
    He stripped down to the bare flesh rotating his shoulders just so as he mentally prepared to settle in for the night, but not without a nightcap. Making a mad dash to his kitchen, he opened the cabinet and removed the bottle of silver tequila Patron, his favorite. Not caring to grab a glass, he returned to his bedroom, got settled amongst the fresh, crisp pale yellow sheets, and removed a sliding panel from his headboard. Upon a sigh, his right nostril twitched in anticipation. He leaned over to the side and grabbed the small silver tray on the side of his bed, setting it across his lap just so. Opening up a small plastic bag, the thing crinkled and sighed before he’d created his perfect lines of cocaine with a gleaming, sharp razor blade. He was ready to give himself a lullaby to last him the rest of the night. A beautiful white cloud would tuck him in just right…
    Lord Finesse’s, ‘Hip 2 Da Game’ played loudly from the radio.
    “Mmmm…” He snorted the first line, and then the second in record timing. He rested his head against the headboard as he slowly closed his eyes, a satisfied smile on his face until his flesh began to tingle, and soon felt slightly numb. Mustering the strength, he moved the tray off his lap and set it neatly onto the floor before sliding beneath the sheets and falling into a midnight blue miasma of sleep.
    Sleep little boy… sleep all that shit away that you say you don’t remember…
    Oh, but you DO remember, don’t you, Nicky boy?
    … He remembered EVERY damn thing… His dream, filled with real life commemorations, took him over, took him down…
    ‘Yo, Nick! Your mother is callin’ you! She said you better bring your ass back home!’ This was followed by the fucker’s raspy laughter.
    ‘I don’t care! I ain’t never going back home! She said she was gonna call the pigs on me.’
    ‘Awww, Nick! Don’t be that way! She was just playing. Hey, I bet she got somethin’ to eat. Let’s find out.’
    ‘I ain’t hungry for nothing except some money. You got some money, Jonathan?’
    ‘No, but I got this perfect set up to get some coats and sell ’em!’
    ‘It’s cold as fuck out here. I’m not gonna stand out here selling any goddamn coats!’
    ‘That’s the whole fucking point, idiot! We can get ’em from A&S. I totally mapped it out. It’s easy. You game?’
    ‘I’m game.’
    …And then he floated away into blackness…
    Less than three hours later, he was on his feet, bright eyed and chin held high. He stood in front of his bedroom mirror like a perfect, straight-laced legionnaire, buttoning up his shirt, looking the goddamn part. His lips kinked in a tilted grin as he ran his hand across his broad shoulder, feeling himself, making sure he was still alive…just in case. Carefully placing his black coffee mug to his lips, he took in the final, warm gulp, swallowing it down. He glided a hand across his vanity, past his mother’s carefully placed ruddy red rosary, then grabbed his police badge. He slid the thing on and placed his hat atop his head too, sloping it at the perfect angle.
    Before he exited his bedroom to leave his home and report for duty, he glanced back at his bed. He’d made it up, tight and perfect, military style. The ceiling light caught the glimmer of the silver tray lying on the ground, sitting there in front of the nightstand, sprinkled with powdery residue. His grin slowly faded as he turned his back on the sight and slapped his hand onto the light switch, shrouding himself in pitch black before he disappeared out onto the streets to protect and serve…

    “And how long did that continue?” She simply