End of the Day

My first day...my first day on the job, there was this big drug raid up in the Bronx. Crackhouse, in this old abandoned machine shop. We weren't the ones who busted the place, we just came in afterwards to kind of mop up the mess, so to speak. So we get there, and I realize right off that there must have been some big shootout. Like on television or something. But we'd miss all that. So anyway, I'm walkin' around the place, looking around at all the bodies... all these young black guys... all in their teens... and I see this blood on the floor. This trail of blood, leading towards what used to be the office of this machine shop. So I start to follow this trail.Looking back on it, I feel really stupid now, I coulda gotten myself blown clear away. But I was a rookie, I didn't know any better. I was just so hypnotized by this trail of blood, something made me follow it, alla way into this dark little back room. I got my gun drawn, my hands shaking like this... I kick open the door, like they trained us... and I see another cop. Young guy, maybe a coupla years older'n me. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the light, but then I see that he's sitting on the floor... no, he's propped up against the wall on the other side of the room. And he's sitting in this... in this lake. This lake of his own blood. It was so thick I thought it was paint at first. Somehow he had crawled into this room... and died. I threw up all over myself. My first day on the job, all down the front of my uniform. And of coursethe rest of the guys, they're laughing, they nickname me "Chunky". Not 'cause I was heavy back then-which I kinda was-but because they said it looked like chunky soup all down the front of my uniform. I don't care how "ready" you think you are. I don't care how "prepared". You never are. Don't go trying any heroics your first day out. You'll be doing good if you clock out at the end of the day.1