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Down in the Dirt magazine (v108)
(the July-August 2012 Issue)




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I ride the Goldline train home.

Fritz Hamilton

    It’s near midnight, & I’m on my last lap from a movie in Culver City, a stop from my Pasadena Stop, when it’s announced that my Memorial Park Stn is closed. We must get off & wait for a bus to take us further. I can use the exercise, so I don’t wait for the bus. I walk through the nightlife of Pasadena & arrive at Memorial Park station with cops & police cars all over. I can see down the steps that a train is stopped, & police aren’t letting anybody off.
    I ask one of the cops guarding the tape to keep us from getting close to the crime scene, “What’s happening?”
    He smiles at me & shakes his head without answering.
    I leave the crowd that’s gathered & walk the two blocks to Centennial Place where I live. I ask David, our big security guard, if he knows what’s going on.
    “All I know is somebody got knifed at the Goldline Stn.”
    As he prepares to get off his shift, I climb up to my room. I turn the light on & discover that I’m sopped with blood, & something is sticking out of my belly. It’s a knife buried to the hilt.
    Jesoo himself is crucified to my wall, laughing down at me. “Fred, you ass, the victim is not supposed to leave the scene of the crime.”
    “But Jesoo, I wasn’t at the crime scene. I got off at the stop before & walked home.”
    “Well, Fred, you’d better file a report.”



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