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	Short Story

	We are the United States. We are free. 

	We are free, to the point that we have restaurants that will serve a red wine and lasagna, fried chicken and waffles, and salmon steak with side rice pilaf and lemon-caper butter, all to the same table.

	We are free, to the point that our gun carrying citizens see fit to form their own special club in which to discuss their firearms, all things related to firearms, and anything in their lives that could potentially be linked back to firearms.

	We are free, to the point that we will arrest any individual who is caught while bartering sexual favors for monetary return, unless, of course, a camera is involved, with the intent to distribute the recording. Prostitution becomes pornography very, very easily.

	We are free, to the point that we are allowed the time, and resources to plot, supply, and fund acts of terrorism, designed to destroy our nation's morals or structure. And we are allowed to remain Anonymous.

	We are free, to the point that idiot wannabe writers can click-clack away at their keyboards to criticize a complex system of government, forming not only the Three Branches, but a dense webway of autonomic social cues locking us biologically into a set series of behaviours like insects, obedient to the Queen's pheromones.

	We are free, at a price.

	[u]                                                                                        [/u]

	[color=39b54a][b]Harper's Mill Police Department, 300 Main St. Harper's Mill, Virginia, 24551, 1997 AD.[/b]
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	I just killed a cop. I didn't mean to. I swear. I didn't know who he was. That's a pretty excuse, I know. Maybe it would make more sense if I mentioned I thought he was a different cop. No, wait, no, that sounds worse. He was a dirty cop. Not the one I killed, the one I thought he was. That guy, he's a killer, and I've seen him give drugs to kids. He trades 'em for sex. I swear. I have proof. Photographs. But I can't tell you where it is. I can't trust you, I'm sorry. 

	I can tell you where to find the bodies. There's one, under the pier, on the south shore. There's another buried in the backyard of 126 Majestic Pines Rd. The third, buried in the backyard of 1850 Kemper St. The last one is at the bottom of the river, off the bridge downtown, the one that leads off to Calumet. 

	I swear to God. I swear to God. 

	[b][color=39b54a]1850 Kemper St. Apt. 1; Harper's Mill, Virginia, 24551; Barrett Farrar, Landlord; 1997 AD[/color][/b]
	


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not sure where this is going