The chair had a ghost dick.

Ed's had it in his ass now for the last three hours.

He shifted on the stainless steel buttrest, making it groan under the pressure, or ectoplasmic sexual pleasure.

Putting his cuffed hands on his lap, he shifted again.

Hello, depravity.

Their secret romance was interrupted by the steel door swinging open, and a white biological male human let himself in, wearing a police uniform.

"Okay," the police officer pulled a chair and trusted it with his butt, "time for you to talk."

"Third time for me to talk."

The police officer ignored that one. He pulled out a notepad and a pen, "first, what were you doing this morning?"

"Well, I woke up, had a full bladder. So I went to the public shit-house and relieved myself."

The police officer scribbled frantically on his notepad.

"Which public 'shit-house'?"

"The one next to the fast-food restaurant."

"There are three fast-food restaurants in that block."

"Well, I went to the shit-house next to the fast-food restaurant that had a shit-house next to it."

Scribble scribble doodle.

"What were you doing when the incident occurred?"

"I was gonna eat breakfast."

The cop looked up from the notepad.

"Refresh my memory, it was 3 pm in the afternoon, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, rough day."

Scribble scribble and perhaps some real note-taking.

"So, what's for breakfast?"

"A slice of pizza, perhaps a day old, might've been bad."

"And where did you get that slice?"

"The trash."

Scribble.

"And when the incident happened, what did you witness?"

Ed was through this. He was through this more than he was through searching trashcans for food. But he knew they were gonna be a bitch about it as long as he was.

"I just came to the empty little road I go to eat..."

"You say you were alone on that road?"

"Well, there was this old man looking at this house. But that's just regular."

Scribble scribble.

"Continue."

"Well, I was just going to bite on my pizza, when a green SUV pulled up."

"Describe the vehicle."

"Well, it was olive green, one of those fancy wavy ones. The front was a mess, both lights cracked. The back-right tire seemed like it needs a change. The window glasses were dark."

Very violent scribbling followed.

"Mmhm, go on."

"Then this woman opens the back door and pushes the kid out. Then she says..."

"Describe the woman," the officer interrupted.

"Well, she looked middle-aged, blonde hair, brown eyes. She was holding a bloody rag to her side."

More violent scribbling.

"She says to take the kid," Ed doesn't wait for the signal.

"Are those her exact words?"

"No. 'please take her!' those are."

The policeman lifts one of his legs over the other, dangling it.

"And she tells the girl, 'go with the boy. He'll get you home.'"

The cop twirls the pen in his finger.

"So she just sees you, decides you, a homeless seventeen year old, is trustworthy and leaves her kid with you?"

Ed shrugged, "One, you don't know she's her mom. Two, she looked like she's in a serious hurry, like the last taco in the world level of hurry."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

Ed shrugged again, "weird world." Then pointing to the officer's knuckles, "one where lipstick doesn't wash away with water."

The big man choked on air and sat upright. Looking at his knuckles, even he could see the remnants of his wife's pink lipstick still smeared lightly on some fingers. Pulling together his tightest professional face, "That's none of your business."

"No," Ed slumped on his chair, "I believe it is yours."

"Here's what I think," ignoring Ed again, "you, kidnapped that girl, kept her for quite some time, made her develop Stockholm syndrome. Then, when you're supposed to ask for ransom, you chicken out. Then you fabricate this whole tale so that you can walk out." The officer finished, clearly proud of having used the word fabricate.

"You're right, officer," Ed replied, "you might just be the only one who thinks that."

"So," the police shifted his legs, "according to your story, you've never seen this girl before?"

"Not even in my dreams."

"Then why does that girl request to talk to you and only you?"

"She what?" The chair came in.

"She refuses to talk to any of our interrogators. We ask her what happened? Get the boy. Ask her name, get the boy. Are you hungry? Get the boy. Honey, do you need to pee? Get. The. Boy."

"I am hungry and I do need to pee," Ed flipped his palm, "then let me talk to her."

"What's been your conversation with her up to this point?" Ignored.

Ed threw his hands up, definitely not to rejoice.

"Well, I kinda ran after the car for a few seconds, but it took off."

The officer was listless.

"Well, then I asked her what her name was. And she didn't say anything. I asked her about her parents. Nada, nothing, just looked at me like a deer in a headlight."

"So you two have no prior conversation?"

"Well, she made a point of saying that she's cold. I kinda figured, since she was barefoot and seemed naked except for the blanket."

"And then you..."

"Took her to the police station. 'Mean, her feet were bleeding, and she looked sick. Though, I think a hospital might've been more appropriate."

The officer scribbled a bit, looked at Ed, and scribbled a bit more.

"Look, Ed, the more you lie, the bigger your punishment becomes. And early confession can save you and me a lot of trouble."

"Yeah, you know what the truth is, officer?" Ed leaned forward and brought his tone to a hush, "I'm an alien who came to the earth on a giant pyramid mothership to fuck people with my big green alien dick and the girl is my apprentice who'd gotten lost five years ago in the Amazon."

"Jesus!" Officer pinched the bridge of his nose, "you know what, punk? You two get to deal with each other," He stood up, "come on, you're meeting the girl."