Wake Me Up When It's Time To Go Home pt 7

The sound of the cell door awoke me from my shallow slumber with a start. I stared incomprehensibly at the large figure in the doorway, trying to regain my bearings and remember where I was and what I was doing there. "Ok pal, yer free to go" said the figure in the doorway. He had come some way into the cell and I could now identify him as the police officer who had manhandled me into the police station. I could prove nothing, but I felt sure it was he who had administered the blow to the side of my head too. "I couldn't have a cup of tea could I?" I rasped, my tongue still stuck to the roof of my mouth. "That will be bloody right son, you think this is the fuckin' Hilton or somethin'?" He looked at me like I was vermin. I suppose I was in a way. I had certainly looked better in my time, though not much. "I only asked..........." "Lucky not to be up in front of the magistrate mate" he continued warming to his theme somewhat. "I had you in here on an act of public indecency. Playin' with yerself on a park bench........" "I was asleep, I had no idea....." I butted in, not liking where this was going. "Yeah, heard it", he snapped. "Thing is, I don't make the decisions around here. You can go now." He looked wistfully at the light fitting, a little smile coming to his lips for a moment, probably imagining for a few seconds a world in which the cracking of strangers over the head with his truncheon was the kind of thing that got you promoted. "You said I could go?" I ventured. The officer snapped out of his little bloodsoaked reverie and directed me to the door and down the hallway to the desk sergeant to collect my belongings. An hour later I was sitting on the prom with a bag of chips. They tasted slightly strange, the vinegar wasn't right. I put it down to the bump on the head scrambling my taste buds and breathing the musty air of the jail cell for three hours couldn't have helped either. The town looked altogether more welcoming in the mid afternoon, with it's citizens and tourists milling about in the streets and on the beach. A holiday postcard scene if ever there was one. What a pity it had taken me six long, traumatic, lonely hours hours to find it. Scrunching the chip bag up I got to my feet and wandered towards the nearest bin. Several scabby looking local strays demonstrated more than just a passing interest in the chip wrapper as I went to dispose of it. "I wouldn't bother if I were you chaps" I said as I dropped it in the bin "I think someone pissed in the vinegar bottle in the chippy, tasted bloody awful" Understandably they ignored me and continued to paw and slavver at the bin entrance in the vain hope of getting at the greasy piece of newspaper. I considered my situation for a few moments as I walked along the seafront. I had heard the next stop along the coast was nice. I would leave that night. The world seemed still to regard me as easy prey here. This place and it's people didn't seem to want me and I decided that I had to leave before I got too familiar with any more of it's denizens.