"Goddamn it." This is what the cop said when the door first opened.

"It's not what you think. I can explain. See, we were playing a game. Hide and seek sort of thing, and things got a little out of control." He mumbled and shuffled, which the cop always took as a sign of guilt.

"Okay, we need to get him up off the floor. An ambulance is on its way. And you --" The cop pointed at the mumbler. "You need to come with me."

Mumbler shrugged and kicked at the table leg. "I didn't do anything. It was his choice."

"His choice? Listen to me, you shit. I don't want you saying another thing, do you understand. Because if you say something else that I don't like, I'm gonna punch you and make you look like your friend." The cop panted a little after the outburst and he scolded himself for getting all worked up. This was a problem with him, caring too much. He had to get that kind of thing under control.

The mumbler put on a jacket and wandered out the front door and into the street. The sun was just peaking through the trees, it's morning appearance, and the mumbler looked up at it as if it were alien, unexpected.

"Get into the car," the cop said and the mumbler did as he was told.

It was when he giggled that the cop lost it. He grabbed the mumbler and tied a scarf around his eyes, so he couldn't see. Then he punched him twice.

"This is what you get, you shit." The cop said this as spit dripped down the mumblers chin. "This is what you get