After a couple of hours, the mustachioed policewoman returned. She told me that my parents had been called and that they would be coming to get me soon. First though, she said, there was something I needed to do. I asked her what that was and she told me you'll see.
She led me out of the room, through the corridor toward the front desk, and down another hallway. There was a woman with a bikini top and high heels being led down the hallway by another cop. As we passed, she blew a kiss at me and told me I was cute. I liked it when girls told me I was cute, even scary ones like her.
I was taken into a dimly lit room with a large window to a more brightly lit room on the other side of the glass. There I was greeted by a child psychologist who introduced himself as "Bob" and a police lieutenant introduced himself as "Lieutenant Simpkins." Bob had a ponytail. Lieutenant Simpkins had a comb over. They were both immensely fat.
Lieutenant Simpkins told me that five men were going to line up on the other side of the one-way mirror. It was up to me pick out the one I saw when I was eating lunch. I was assured that I could see them but they couldn't see me. I told him I didn't really care if they could see me or not. That made him laugh a little, but it was more like a grunt.
Five men entered the other room and lined up along the height chart against the far wall. The man who set Susan Penn on fire was right middle. He was at least a head taller than the other four and almost twice as wide. He was built like Superman. If Superman killed girls and set them on fire, that is. The collar of his shirt had been torn away, probably when he got arrested, and I could see the F-word tattooed on the side of his neck. I thought that was pretty cool. My parents would never let me get one of those.
He was also the only one of them who was smiling. The others seemed like they had stage fright but not him. He was the star of the show. I thought about waving to him but since he couldn't see me, that would have been dumb.
"As soon as you tell us, you can go home," said Lieutenant Simpkins.
"This is your chance to be a hero," said Bob the child psychologist.
I looked at the five men and stroked my chin to show Bob and Lieutenant Simpkins I was thinking real hard.
"It's kind of hard; they all look so much alike. Hmm...nope...I've never seen any of them before. Can I go home now?"
Lieutenant Simpkins threw his pen against the floor and shouted "Unbelievable!" while Bob just sat there and shook his head.
"OK," said Lieutenant Simpkins said. "You can't remember someone you saw just a few hours ago. Fine, but you are going to help us and you're not going anywhere until you do. Bob, take this kid to see our sketch artist. We'll get a description of the suspect even if it takes all night."
Bob was not angry like Lieutenant Simpkins but he was even more of a jerk. He kept telling me how it perfectly OK to be frightened but if I just made an effort, everything would get back to normal. Normal is big with child psychologists. A normal life, a normal childhood, they make it sound like heaven on earth. But you see, normal isn't all that great when you don't like your life to begin with.
I was getting picked on at school a lot. Even when I wasn't, it wasn't like anything particularly good was happening either. It was just boring. Until today, it seemed like nothing new ever happened. One day rolled into the next like reruns on a television I couldn't turn off.
I was let into a small office and introduced to the sketch artist. He reeked of cigarettes and had very little hair on his head except for what was sprouting from his ears. I liked him even though he was funny looking and smelled bad. He didn't try to push me around and he didn't try to be my friend. He just asked simple questions. Was the man's hair light or dark, short or long? Was his nose wide or narrow? Did he have a mustache or beard?
I decided to help him out and give him something he could sketch. The artist really was good because he drew the picture exactly how I described. When he was done, I looked at his pad and saw the face of my school principal. It was almost like a photograph.
"That's him," I said. "Can I go home now?"
She led me out of the room, through the corridor toward the front desk, and down another hallway. There was a woman with a bikini top and high heels being led down the hallway by another cop. As we passed, she blew a kiss at me and told me I was cute. I liked it when girls told me I was cute, even scary ones like her.
I was taken into a dimly lit room with a large window to a more brightly lit room on the other side of the glass. There I was greeted by a child psychologist who introduced himself as "Bob" and a police lieutenant introduced himself as "Lieutenant Simpkins." Bob had a ponytail. Lieutenant Simpkins had a comb over. They were both immensely fat.
Lieutenant Simpkins told me that five men were going to line up on the other side of the one-way mirror. It was up to me pick out the one I saw when I was eating lunch. I was assured that I could see them but they couldn't see me. I told him I didn't really care if they could see me or not. That made him laugh a little, but it was more like a grunt.
Five men entered the other room and lined up along the height chart against the far wall. The man who set Susan Penn on fire was right middle. He was at least a head taller than the other four and almost twice as wide. He was built like Superman. If Superman killed girls and set them on fire, that is. The collar of his shirt had been torn away, probably when he got arrested, and I could see the F-word tattooed on the side of his neck. I thought that was pretty cool. My parents would never let me get one of those.
He was also the only one of them who was smiling. The others seemed like they had stage fright but not him. He was the star of the show. I thought about waving to him but since he couldn't see me, that would have been dumb.
"As soon as you tell us, you can go home," said Lieutenant Simpkins.
"This is your chance to be a hero," said Bob the child psychologist.
I looked at the five men and stroked my chin to show Bob and Lieutenant Simpkins I was thinking real hard.
"It's kind of hard; they all look so much alike. Hmm...nope...I've never seen any of them before. Can I go home now?"
Lieutenant Simpkins threw his pen against the floor and shouted "Unbelievable!" while Bob just sat there and shook his head.
"OK," said Lieutenant Simpkins said. "You can't remember someone you saw just a few hours ago. Fine, but you are going to help us and you're not going anywhere until you do. Bob, take this kid to see our sketch artist. We'll get a description of the suspect even if it takes all night."
Bob was not angry like Lieutenant Simpkins but he was even more of a jerk. He kept telling me how it perfectly OK to be frightened but if I just made an effort, everything would get back to normal. Normal is big with child psychologists. A normal life, a normal childhood, they make it sound like heaven on earth. But you see, normal isn't all that great when you don't like your life to begin with.
I was getting picked on at school a lot. Even when I wasn't, it wasn't like anything particularly good was happening either. It was just boring. Until today, it seemed like nothing new ever happened. One day rolled into the next like reruns on a television I couldn't turn off.
I was let into a small office and introduced to the sketch artist. He reeked of cigarettes and had very little hair on his head except for what was sprouting from his ears. I liked him even though he was funny looking and smelled bad. He didn't try to push me around and he didn't try to be my friend. He just asked simple questions. Was the man's hair light or dark, short or long? Was his nose wide or narrow? Did he have a mustache or beard?
I decided to help him out and give him something he could sketch. The artist really was good because he drew the picture exactly how I described. When he was done, I looked at his pad and saw the face of my school principal. It was almost like a photograph.
"That's him," I said. "Can I go home now?"
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