An Abundance of Riches

So I started thinkin’ the other day about everything that’s happened to Hutch and me over the years, and it hit me just how much bad luck we’ve had in that time. I mean, just in the last four years or so, Hutch has had heroin addiction forced on him, his girlfriend was strangled to death, and IA issued an arrest warrant for him, for the murder of his ex-wife.

And then, to top that off, he almost died from a mysterious virus and again from eatin’ a stinkin’ can of soup.

I mean, yeah, room temperature clam chowder from a can isn’t exactly my idea of a gourmet meal, and it shouldn’t have been Nature Boy’s, either. But still, what kinda world do we live in where a person can die an agonizin’ death just from eatin’ soup?

Then both his piece of shit cars were destroyed. The first one after plunging down a ravine after he was forced off the road by that hitman and then the replacement I got him was blown up by one of Gunther’s heavies, although I can’t say I was too broken up about it. I might have even wanted to extend my thanks to Soldier for that one, but I can’t, since he’s dead.

Anyway, I’m just kiddin’. That silver-jacketed psycho almost blew up my partner, so I wouldn’t so much as piss on him if he was on fire.

But at least I no longer have to listen to Hutch’s horn go off every frigging time he opens the driver’s side door. Well, not until I buy him another replacement, which, according to Merle, will be ready any day now. Lucky me, hahaha.

And as for me, I’ve been shot more times than I can count, injected with poison, drugged on multiple occasions, kidnapped and beaten, and that’s just all the things I can remember off the top of my head.

Then there’s my financial situation, which has never been nearly as lucrative as I’ve wanted it to be. The house I invested my and Hutch’s money in ended up bein’ a losin’ investment, someone stole the engine outta my Torino, and then they riddled it with bullets. And to add insult to injury, I was gypped outta millions in my uncle’s will.

I’ve always told Hutch we shoulda been plumbers instead of cops, but he didn’t wanna listen.

And of course, there’s my love life. Can’t talk about bad luck without mentionin’ that. The first woman I thought I was gonna marry broke up with me and ended up bein’ strangled in a park. The second woman ended up dyin’ from a bullet in her head and the third woman I wanted to marry left me to go into hidin’ with her father. And the fourth woman, who I really thought was gonna be the one, betrayed me by sleepin’ with my best friend, which in itself is a whole other kind of bad luck.

I guess I shouldn’t complain too much though, because I should thank my lucky stars that I’m still alive. I also don’t mean to sound bitter or callous about my own string of bad luck when Helen and Terry had a lot worse luck than me, may they rest in peace.

But lately, I gotta say, my luck has turned. I didn’t die, and my best friend, whose actions nearly destroyed our friendship just a few months ago, is now closer to me than ever. Over the years, I’ve come up with an endless stream of nicknames for him and they just keep on comin’. In fact, I thought of so many nicknames for Hutch when I was recuperatin’ in the hospital that I could call him a different name each day for the rest of our lives and never repeat myself.

A lotta them refer to the color of his hair, names like Golden Boy, Blondie, and Big Blond Blintz.

And while Terry was a brunette, I think I’ve always favored blondes. Helen was a blonde. Rosey too, kind of. Kira, of course, but that’s because she was a substitute for one very gorgeous and muscular blond sergeant. He’s so blond, in fact, that sometimes when the sunlight hits it just right, my partner’s hair turns a shade of yellow gold that’s so shining and luminous, I swear we don’t need any other light to illuminate the darkness around us. He’s all the light I need.

And he’s worth more to me than all the gold in Ft. Knox.

Lately, I’ve taken to calling him My Golden Angel, on account of him bein’ the reason I’m alive right now. The doctors might think it was the defibrillator that saved my life, but they would be mistaken.

But you know what my new favorite nickname is for Hutch? Lover.

They say there’s a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow, and ya know somethin’? They’re right.