No Such Thing As A Hard Woman,

I Try To Be A Good Cop. I Try To Be A Good Little Soldier And Follow Orders Up To A Point. But In The End I’m Not Really A Cop, Or A Soldier. I Am A Legally Sanctioned Murderer. I Am The Executioner.

I Hate Being Awake At Three In The Morning. It Is The Godforsaken Heart Of Darkness When The Body Runs Slow, And The Brain Runs Slower, And All You Want To Do Is Sleep. But I Had Promises To Keep, And Miles To Go Before I Could Sleep. Or At Least A Couple Of Miracles To Perform Before I Could Go To Bed.

I'd Never Met Coffee That Wasn't Wonderful. It Was Just A Matter Of How Wonderful It Was.

He Gave A Small Nod, And I Smiled Back, And That Was It. He Understood That I'd Understood That He'd Understood. It Took Us One Sentence, Two Looks, And A Nod - With Another Woman It Would Have Been At Least Five Minutes Of Out-loud Talking. Lucky For Me I Spoke Fluent Guy.

I Got Out My Jar Of Ointment. I Knew Animators Who Had Special Containers For The Ointment. Crockery, Hand-blown Glass, Mystical Symbols Carved Into The Sides. I Used An Old Mason Jar That Had Once Held Grandma Blake's Green Beans. Larry Fished Out A Peanut Butter Jar With The Label Still On It. Extra-crunchy. Yum-yum.