Chief Rick Hollo, Where ya from?

Chief Rick Hollo - you’re a pickled pepper - never knew you had a few threads up your Prostate.

Sick old fuck - how old? Mid thirties maybe? Sicko place down there the Sorbonne PD.

She said maybe - maybe she make pretty - with some Ugg boots and a hooker thong.

Grad school bonus - the big stipend. Rick Hollo you’re ( Read more... )

A Macro Perspective Recap

Battles on lakes commence something - tell a story about the lap against a fiberglass bow, and paucity of the mid summer hum. The late summer even. Siriusly, dog days - maybe even after, actually. Bubbas bummin for a wrecked shop, goombas on the shore making sure nothing goes right, and lewd cops sifting in.

William ( Read more... )

            “How much we talking here?” Deborah suddenly assumed a stark businesslike tone through her chapped lips. Her father was a corporate manager at a large electronics concern.

Chief Rick Hollo eased back in his chair, in a theatrical exhibition denoting great ponderance of weighty issues, and slowly cradled the back of his head ( Read more... )

            Deborah thought about the idea of the proposition. Hanging around the Sorbonne Police Department station. She could muddle through her reading list. Maybe keep a pile of her piled high and deep books in some unused corner, or occupy a shelf or two. She could grade student papers.

It might not be that bad. But what were the ( Read more... )

            Chief Rick Hollo limply perused the new August issue of Popular Mechanics, licking his right thumb and rubbing it against his right index finger - forming a damp paste. He would squeeze the bottom right corner of each page, and knurl his thumb and finger together with a satisfying ‘thyppt’ sound. Rick loved reading about war technology ( Read more... )

            “What size you wear, Doll?” Chief Rick Hollo asked Deborah. He was half speaking into the phone as the cellular service connected with Madison’s cellular service.
            Deborah squinted through her bloodshot eyes over at Rick. She looked back up at the fiberglass drop ceiling, and the endless fluorescent artifice. It was a lot ( Read more... )

Over the bland cacophony of the emergency triage area of Sorbonne General, Chief Rick Hollo heard the triple pulse chirp of his cell phone signifying a voice message. Why his phone didn’t ring, because of lack of service, yet was able to notify him of a new voice mail was a mystery to Rick.

Madison had his suspicions, that it was all part of a ( Read more... )

            Chief Rick Hollo called Madison back at the station.

“Hey.”

“Listen I got us a new Betty.” Chief Rick Hollo loved to call good looking women ‘Betties.” Something he picked up stationed in Fort Riley Kansas as an MP back in the late seventies and early eighties.

“A gal,” he said. “I got a female ( Read more... )

            Out on a prisoner transport, Chief Rick Hollo would unpack a special “softener device.” The softener device was something he had made himself, in his detached garage, late one night while his wife was on the rag. The softener device consisted of a length of radiator hose, about eighteen inches in length. Both ends were heat pinched, and ( Read more... )

            A squad car whistled by on 27.

“ Sorbonne Police,” the side of the car said. “To Protect and Serve,” the car said.

Chief Rick Hollo enjoyed prisoner transports to the county lock up. He would, if time permitted, make the transports himself. Glancing in the rear view mirror he would make jokes. Ham it up. Tease. Make fun. If the road was ( Read more... )