LAPD the Compound

the ghetto bird is real close tonight.
too close.

flying low, spotlighting the canyon.

circling.

dipping.

coming in, then pulling out.

fast -- like it's going outa style.

shaking the house -- an old house.

1930s, i believe.

the walls are thick, but the windows -- the windows, old n' brittle. i can see them flex and ripple.
and it reminds me of camp pendleton.

but that was a military base.

and this is a suburb of Los Angeles.

albeit devalued.

ghetto bird just shined it's light into my house.

right now, this very instant.

Ellroy going ape.

fanging it, snarling.

i go to touch him.

calm him.

he lunges @ me in the melee.

car alarms blaring like nobody's business.

and it's been going on for nearly dos horas.

you'd think the cops would have some goddamn consideration.

you know, like perhaps a budding screenwriter is trying to hash out some 'motivational' issues with his script.

you'd think.

well maybe you wouldn't.

maybe you think the cops are just doing their job.
true, true.

nevertheless, it's distracting as all hell.

respect cops, sure -- but when these flatfoots forget they work for us, it's a whole other story.

solve Ronni Chasen's murder;

-- and the Black Dhalia's for that matter.

get MS-13 off the street;

crack down on Pedro's crackheads.

oh wait -- the sirens.

they've kicked on.

bellowing.

chasing down some criminal.

well good. go get 'em fellas!

just try not to run over some kid in the process...please.

as for me, think i'll watch Scarface.

the original.

never liked De Palma's version.

Paul Muni all the way.