Big Sugar

Big Sugar scowled at the light-skinned Puerto Rican man who he knew only as Flash. “Git on Flash and leave this mahn alone.”

Flash took off in a flash of his own, he had once been a champion hundred-meter sprinter, and he almost bowled over a Port Authority policeman as he turned to make sure Big Sugar wasn’t coming after him. The policeman frowned and walked over to Big Sugar. “Say Big Man, what’s goin’ on here anyway, man? I saw Flash over here, is he high again?”

Before Big Sugar could reply, Thomas Wang introduced himself and then spoke, in great detail, of the incident, praising Big Sugar for his courage and bravery but it was nothing new to the transit authority cop, he had heard the same thing, in the past, from many grateful commuters, as well as homeless beggars and itinerants, all of whom had been rescued by the big Jamaican, from someone attempting to do them harm.

Jimmy Porelli, a New York City policeman for nearly two decades and assigned to the transit authority for the past seven years, rubbed the back of his hand over his grizzled whiskers—he hadn’t shaved in almost a whole day and the beginnings of the salt and pepper beard clashed slightly with his completely dark black hair. Porelli had just turned forty-one and was seriously considering taking a pension the following year. He glanced towards the two holding cells, in the small precinct on the second floor, and saw the lineup of waiting prisoners, the two cells were already stuffed to overflowing and several were shackled to the wall, handcuffs being riveted into the mortared wall, and still the perpetrators ran rampant throughout the terminal. Porelli was thankful for the big Jamaican’s presence, as the Port Authority police could use all the help they

could get, especially Porelli pondered idly, this p.m., as he had seen it coming on his ride to work, from his house in the Bronx—a full-moon. As if they didn’t have enough to worry about on any given night, full-moon’s, to Porelli, had always spelled disaster in the past. As he glanced at a young Hispanic boy who he saw eyeballing an elderly woman and then watched as the boy snatched her purse and took of running, Porelli quickly thanked Big Sugar and then took off after the youthful offender. Big Sugar disappeared before Wang could offer him any money and he reached for the phone—he would inform his wife of his exigent circumstances and that he would call her from the bus station in New Jersey or take a taxicab home, later that evening.



Murder most foul, as in the best it is;

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