To recap the tale so far, I, being a homeless, untreated schizophrenic living on the street at the time, was set upon without provocation by Constable Shithead in Langley, B.C. late one night after I exited a bar at closing time. The ever charming Constable Shithead laid a beating on me at the side of the street, loaded me into his cruiser, and carted my sorry ass about 15 kms out of town where he hauled me out of the cruiser and abandoned me at the side of the road with the instruction to not return too Langley. Outraged and full of righteousness, and with a sizeable chip on my shoulder, I made my way on foot back to the city to seek retribution for my mistreatment. Arriving at the police station, I was turned away by an officer manning the front desk with the flimsy excuse that he could not formally lodge a complaint against Constable Shithead because he lacked a supply of forms upon which to take my statement. Fully convinced that I was being deflected by the officer in an effort to protect Constable Shithead, I got quite pissy with the officer. Having kicked the beehive so to speak, I left in a fit of impotent rage to go and sleep the night away and fight the battle another day, unaware that the police, like a swarm of angry bees, had plans of their own. The opening of this, the seventh part in the series, sees me confronted by two people in front of a strip plaza just outside the city center three or four days after my attendance at the police station.
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