Martello: Part One

Martello popped a couple of the bits in his mouth and checked out the papers. Lots of Posts. Martello thought the Post was an unreadable right-wing rag unsuitable even for wrapping fish, however he knew he was decidedly in the minority around the station on that one. Most of the guys were so far right Martello had to just sit quietly with a shit-eating grin to get through lunch without a fight.

Something about cops he never understood. Sure, they saw the dregs of the streets everyday, and took a lot of abuse too, but Martello thought the very fact that cops saw what miserable lives most people lived would make them more sympathetic. Martello often thought, cruising down the dusty end of Jarvis, or the long, wasted stretches of Eglington in Scarborough that the only thing between him and the fucked up misery that he saw was a thin, metal door with “To Serve and Protect” stencilled on it. “To Deal with Shit So You Don’t Have To!” was more like it. Or “I See You, Fucker, I See You!” The guys would love that.