Bernard Schaffer - Superbia

“Nobody in their right mind would open this. Drug dealers count on that.” Vic peeled off the sticky tape holding the diaper together and unrolled it. “Oh boy. What did they feed this kid. That’s disgusting.”

Frank looked down and gagged. “Hurry up, roll it back up and put it in here.”

Vic dropped the diaper in and reached back for another. “Only four more to go.”

Frank buried his face into his bicep and tried crushing his nostrils against the fabric. His eyes watered from the fumes and odor of liquid feces. The sticky side of the tape got caught on Vic’s rubber glove and he struggled to get it open without spilling the contents of the diaper onto the two of them. He slowly unrolled the diaper and said, “There. You see that?”

Frank opened one eye and looked sideways down at the diaper without moving his face away from his arm. “What is that?”

“It’s a plastic bag.” Vic laid the diaper down and spread it out on the ground. He picked up a stick and poked the brown liquid inside, using the tip of the stick to hoist a glassine sandwich bag out of the soup. “Here, take a look at this.”

Frank pinched his nose and squatted down beside him.

“This is a source bag,” Vic said. “It’s the one the cocaine comes in. If you look close, you can still see chunks of it at the bottom.”

“The only chunks I see are baby corn shit.”

Vic squeezed the bag flat between his gloved fingers to show him the miniscule pieces settled at the bottom of the bag. “This is big enough for an ounce of raw coke. The dealer probably stepped on it enough to turn that into two or maybe two and a half.”

“What does stepping on it do, squish it?”

Vic turned to look at him. “Are you serious? Didn’t you ever watch The Wire ?”

Frank shrugged. “I don’t watch TV.”

“It’s the single greatest cop show since Homicide or NYPD Blue .”

“Never saw them either.”

Vic flinched and said, “How the hell can you be a cop and not have watched them? It’s basic training.”

“What do they have to do with what I do out here?”

Vic shook the bag and said, “Maybe if you watched them, you’d know what this…” he stopped speaking and his voice turned into a small squeak in his throat. His eyes widened in horror.

“What?” Frank said.

“Dude, don’t move.”

“Why?”

“It’s nothing. Just don’t move.” Vic set the bag down and said, “I’ll be RIGHT back. Just stay there.”

Frank grabbed him by the arm, “Tell me what’s happening!”

“Get your hand off my shirt! You were just digging through trash!”

“Tell me and I’ll let go.”

Vic lowered his voice and said, “You have a small, teeny, tiny piece of baby poop on your cheek. Real close to your lip. For the love of God, don’t move. I’ll get a towel and we’ll wipe it off.”

Frank’s eyes widened and his jaw quivered slightly. The quiver turned into a full blown spasm as he leapt to his feet and screamed, “You son of a bitch! You got shit on me!” Frank grabbed the wet diaper off of the ground with his hand and cocked it over his shoulder like a football.

“It was an accident!” Vic shouted as he jumped back and threw his hands over his face. “Hey! Hey! That diaper is evidence! Do not throw it, Frank. It has evidence and I am giving you a direct order to put it down.”

“You are so dead,” Frank hissed.

“Put it down, Frank. Let’s both calm down.”

“That is easy for the guy with no shit on his face to say!”

“The more you talk the closer that shit gets to falling right into your… oh Jesus. Where did it go?”

“What?” Frank said.

“I don’t see it anymore. Christ… I think with all your moving and yelling it might have… we’d better get you inside.”

“In my mouth?” Frank shrieked. He dropped the diaper and stuck his tongue out and wagged it like a dog, spitting everywhere.

Vic watched Frank take off running around the parking lot, screaming. “Frank? You okay buddy?”

Frank bent over and clutched his stomach, ready to dump its contents. “Get the hell away from me!”

“Ok,” Vic said, patting him on the back. “Just let it out. There you go. That’s better, buddy. That’s right.”

He found Frank leaning against his car a half hour later, not looking up when Vic put a six-pack of Budweiser on the hood of the car. Vic cracked open the first can and handed it to Frank. “Here. Alcohol kills infections.”

Frank took the can and emptied it in one long drink. He smirked and said, “Thanks. Where’d you get this, out of evidence?”

Vic took a long sip and said, “Yeah.”

Frank spit the beer straight out of his mouth and shouted, “We can’t drink evidence. What the hell else are you going to do to me tonight?”

“Relax,” Vic said. He opened a can and leaned back against the car. “This is from some underage drinking party and they already went to court. It’s marked for destruction. They don’t say how to destroy it.”

Frank took another can and opened it. “Working with you really sucks.”

“I know,” Vic said. “Hey, tell me again what you said about needing the Staff Sergeant’s permission to use an unmarked car?”

“He said if I need it, I have to contact him directly and request his permission. I’m not allowed to ask anyone under him.”

“That’s what I thought,” Vic said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He started scrolling through his phone. “Let’s see… what the hell did I put him under. It’s not under ‘Erinnyes.’ Not under ‘Staff Infection.’ Where could it be?”

“What are you doing?” Frank said. “It’s four thirty in the morning.”

“Ah. Here it is. Under Festering Sore .” He pressed a button and held the phone to his ear.

“Hang up, you crazy prick!”

Vic covered the mouthpiece and said, “Shut up!” He held up his finger and spoke into the phone, “Hello? Mrs. Erinnyes? Did I wake you? Yes, ma’am. Did I wake you? Oh dear. Is the Staff Sergeant home? May I speak with him?”

“Thanks a whole freaking lot, Vic. I’m going to be handing out parking tickets for the rest of my career now!” Frank said.

“Staff Sergeant Erinnyes? Good morning, sir. I need Frank to use the unmarked car for a trash pull, but he said he needs your permission first. So is that all right with you?” Vic nodded and said, “Uh huh, uh huh,” several times. “Well, will they be using it for traffic enforcement at four thirty in the morning, sir?”

Vic ended the phone call and chuckled as he put the phone away. “He said you can use it, Frank. Where you going? What? You mad bro?”

The next morning Frank limped into the office, squinting at the harsh fluorescent lights. Vic was sitting at his desk, dressed in the same clothes from the night before. Frank limped in, smelling baby shit. “This place stinks.”

“Don’t look at me, you’re the one who ate babyshit,” Vic said. “You ready to get to work? We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

“Didn’t you go home yet?”

“Nope. I stayed here and typed up the search warrant. Of course, my eyes started crossing halfway through it and I’m pretty sure I was asleep when I typed the last page. I need you to look it over before I give it to the judge.”

Frank took the papers from him and sat down at his desk. He heard a pair of shoes squeaking by the staircase, the ominous sound of a hippopotamus laboring onto the land in search of more food. “I think Staff Infection is coming.”

“Shit!” Vic stuck his head under his desk and started searching for something. “Where the hell did I put it?” He scanned the room, spying a large laminated poster facing the wall behind Frank. “There! Hang that on the hook behind you. Hurry!”