It's like Bridget Jones' Diary, but with a super-powered vigilante.

September 14, 2004


The cops talk to me, and the paramedics check me out. I hear there are news teams waiting downstairs. They’re sending people home. A guy from AP got shot in the back, but he’s stable. I don’t know him. They wheeled him away a long time ago. Somewhere I can hear a woman sobbing.

I try to act shaken up, which isn’t hard really. Shit like that’s not supposed to happen at work. Have you ever had two groups of friends, maybe a group from your home town, and a group from college? And you just can’t imagine these separate groups meeting, because they exist in different universes. For me work is like that. Out there, shit blows up and people get hurt and shot and jacked – work is where you bitch about the coffee and have boring meetings and shit.

I put it all on Keith, I play up how he really restrained Todd, I just knocked him over. The cop taking the report seems a little skeptical, but he doesn’t say anything.

Taxi for me, I’m not in the mood for the bus.

No comments: