I’ve been working for the NYPD for ten years, ever since I was a green twenty five year old. I’ve been a plainclothesman seven years, and I even worked a stint as a homicide detective, so I’ve seen some pretty strange things. But there are things that you never expect to see, and even when they’re happening you can’t believe it.
I met Tim McSullen the first day on the job. He was the ruddy, reclusive cop by the soda machine, addicted to Coca Cola like no other. It was impressive how many of those he’d finish during a beat. I’ve seen him shoot a guy while downing a can. My buddy, Al, and I used to say that if there was one cop who was gonna lose it and probably shoot one of his coworkers, it was McSullen.
On Friday, the 23rd of November, ‘07, there was a big time dealer that got busted and a bunch of us were called in to help out. We were pretty preoccupied with all the questioning and filing and trying to get other guys’ names. So it wasn’t much of a surprise that nobody much noticed the strange creature that McSullen found in the dealer’s apartment and smuggled into his cruiser. Nobody noticed then, but it’s on the security cameras.
About two days later someone noticed that McSullen was missing. He hadn’t shown up for work, and when we called his cell he didn’t pick up. This is the guy who worked without more than five sick days for the last fifteen years. We figured something was up, so my buddy Al and I went over to his apartment on the lower West side. Ratty place, graffiti on the stairwell, the whole number, and about a gazillion crumpled Cola cans in the recycling bin by the curb. Taking this as confirmation of our coworkers place of habitation, we entered the building and ascended the four flights of stairs to the door titled McSullen. Knocked twice, no answer. Knocked again, nothing. Now Al starts freaking out, says he’s worried McSullen’s lying inside dead. Mostly Al was acting crazy because he has low blood sugar and he skipped lunch. Always a bad situation for a guy with a major weapon on his belt. So Al goes and busts down the door.
We go inside and find McSullen in there all right. And he’s got an elf with him. Maybe not an elf, more like a goblin. Real big jowls, about three feet, green eyes, crazy little thing. McSullen instantly throws a blanket over the thing and tries to act real nonchalant, so we say, Hey, McSullen, why is there a mythical creature under the blanket. Turns out this is some crazy goblin guy that the dealer bred and McSullen has high hopes to breed it and sell the new species. Then the thing snarls and rips through the blanket and suddenly we see these metal claws. I draw my gun and it leaps at me, tearing off my left arm with its steel teeth. It sprints past me out of the apartment, and McSullen runs after it. Al and I chase them out to the street and raise our guns to fire, expecting McSullen to do the same. Then the crazy guy does what I’d always predicted: he points his gun at us and is about to fire...When the goblin shrinks into the sidewalk, turning into a flowery weed between two old tires.
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