The horse shifted its hooves impatiently on the warm asphalt of Whitehead Street. It wanted to go. Rudy wanted it to go, too. He was stuck here, crouched behind the tall root system of the kapok tree in front of the courthouse on Whitehead Street, listening to the officer on the horse’s back talk into his radio. Someone had called the police. Pulling out your cock at the Southernmost Point had that effect on people. The dispatcher had gotten on it quickly.
“This guy really took a whizz at the Southernmost Point?” the mounted cop asked. “Just whipped it out?”
There was no audible response. The officer wore an earpiece to screen out any surrounding chatter. Depending on the location and time of day it could be considerable.
Rudy’s stomach growled and the officer’s head rotated toward him ever so slightly. Had he actually heard it? No. The officer resumed his conversation but still showed no indication of moving away. Damn.
The last banana hung in Rudy’s shirt just below his navel. He tugged at the fabric, pulling it free from where it tucked into his shorts. The fruit fell into his waiting hand. He put the black tip of the banana between his teeth to break the peel.
“Could be anywhere by now,” the horse cop said to the dispatcher. “Probably went back to his room to sleep it off.” Finally, he coaxed his horse northward on Whitehead.
Had Rudy been listening, he would have noticed the steady klik-klok of the quarter horse’s hooves moving up the street. He wasn’t listening. Or watching or thinking about the officer or his mount. He was thinking about the banana between his teeth. The impulses fired through his alcohol-soaked brain so quickly and from so many directions he could barely separate them.
He let the plump fruit fall from his teeth into his hands, rolled it over, allowing his senses to overtake his thoughts. The smell of it. The perfect stem. The smooth, unblemished peel. The slight indentation where his teeth had almost broken it.
Rudy fished in his pocket for his phone. For the first time in days he knew exactly what to do.
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