THE PRIVATE JOURNAL OF DETECTIVE JACK DENHAM

Shit, I’m out of cigarettes again
One hell of a way for the day to begin
A full clip and an empty pack
Not enough time spent on the rack
And he is still loose somewhere out there
Killing at will and without a care

Grab a brew before I head out the door
I should have a care, but what the hell for?
Another day of trails and a wild goose chase
What I would give to put him in his place
Behind bars or under a slab
Maybe there’ll be results from the lab

On the way in I saw a blood drenched man
Running away from the scene of a scam
Gore down his shirt and gun in his fist
I caught up to him and he tried to resist
A punch to my jaw and a shot to his chest
All I have now is paper work then some rest

Found out the perp was Mason’s goon
All this time, I’ve been dancing Mason’s tune
I know where he is, his happy home
Who he is and how he’s grown
Time to see if I can erase my disgrace
And go meet the man face to face

I go in alone without any backup
Just me, myself, don’t want no fuckups
Pull up outside and see a team of goons
It’s time they learned to dance to my tune
I check my mag and prepare
A bead of sweat runs through my hair

They open fire as soon I’m seen
I take one to arm and one to the spleen
Pain brings glint and I open fire
Three to the head like a swinging wire
I take the stairs two at a time
Time for the fucker to pay for his crimes

I find him upstairs with a Mac-10
Coke on his nose and a death’s head grin
I dive away as he sprays and prays
Blood seeps as my vision goes grey
He stops to reload and I unleash hell
Feeling satisfaction when his body fell

I take his smokes from the table
Reliving this hellish nightmare fable
Slump to the floor as I go weak
Laugh as I look around, considering a tweek
I know I have risen as I fall
Maybe this was a good day after all