Today was Wednesday. The Police had been called to investigate an unusually large explosion that occurred last night. During their investigation, they also discovered a curious bright red truck flee Paradise and into the desert. When the police found the truck, they found the Dude shot in the head as his dog, Champ, sitting beside him in worry. An ambulance soon arrived on the scene and transported him to the Paradise Clinic in a last-ditch attempt to save his life. The doctors managed to stitch together his head in the nick of time to prolong his life, but the Dude was still in a coma until Wednesday night. Outside the Dude's room stood two police officers eating donuts and discussing the matter at hand.
"Are you sure this was a good idea? I mean, what if he can't even talk?" one cop said.
"He's the only lead we got. If you got any better ideas, speak up," the other cop said, quickly silencing the other. A doctor with a clipboard approached the door and was startled by the two police officers by the door.
"Hello, officers. Something troubling you?"
"That man in there, he's a convicted criminal that we need to talk to. Can he, though? He's really important…" one of the cops pleaded. The doctor looked at his clipboard had frowned,
"I don't know. He was on the brink of death, but we managed to save him in time. I'll be surprised if he does. But don't-"
"What's all we needed to hear."
Not wanting to talk anymore, the police officers spread out so the doctor could get into the Dude's room. The Dude slowly opened up his eyes and felt a splitting headache like never before.
"Oh man, it was just a horrible dream! Where the hell am I? And why does my medulla oblongata hurt?" the Dude looked up and saw the doctor standing at the foot of his bed.
"Just relax. You've suffered a terrible head injury, and you've barely survived your unfortunate firearms accident."
"I don't think having been shot in the head by a horribly mislead arms runner qualifies as an "accident;" the things that led up that moment probably do."
"Oh, is that what happened? The police outside didn't word it like that."
the Dude suddenly grew tense and nervous,
"What do you mean the police outside?" The doctor hushed him with a wave of his hand as he scanned his clipboard.
"Well, I'm no law enforcer, but I think they want to talk to you more in depth about your incident last night. But seeing how you just woke up from a twenty-four hour coma, maybe you'll get lucky and they'll go easy on you. Before you go, take these."
The doctor handed the Dude a prescription container for several morphine pills to numb the pain.
"I've had enough unpleasant encounters with drugs, but thanks anyway," said the Dude as he popped the pills in his mouth and felt his head pain be relieved almost instantly.
"How are your legs? Can you walk?"
"I think I can go from point A to point B without keeling over. And I better still have both kidneys, doctor."
The doctor chuckled as he went to the side of the Dude's bed and slowly helped him out of bed. They took several baby steps together until the doctor figured the Dude was healthy enough to walk on his own. The Dude stood at the door and took a deep breath before going out into the hallway. There stood the two police officers waiting for the Dude.
"Well, look who's up! You got a lot of explaining to do mister. Just cooperate with us and it'll go a lot smoother."
"Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah, slap the cuffs on me big man, seeing how a gravely injured man is a threat to you," the Dude replied as he stretched his arms out to be arrested. With a tight-fitting pair of handcuffs on him, the Dude was escorted to a police car outside the hospital where he would be thrown into the city jail.
"Do you even remember what you've done?" the cop in the passenger seat asked bitterly to the Dude. The Dude kept quiet during the whole trip to the jail. He was escorted out of the car and into the station. The nearby police officers in the station had extreme expressions of disgust as they saw the bandaged Dude be escorted to a cell on cellblock "FU" for the time being. As the cuffs came off him and he was put in the cell, the other police officer talked to him,
"You're gonna stay put right here until we've found time in our schedule to get a proper interrogation out of you. You'd better get as much rest as you can, but nothing is going to help you when the time comes."
The door was locked up as the Dude sat in a jail cell. He sat on the bed provided and contemplated the things he did in the past several days. From blowing up a meth lab, to blowing up a protesting crowd, to blowing up his trailer home where his wife was, and now in jail after waking up from a short coma, nothing seemed to go as planned. The Dude thought back to Larry Chakawitz's hasty and violent conclusion on discovering his crack pipe. He sighed in disgust, wishing ever more for revenge in the most sadistic and prolonged way possible for Larry. Accepting that this day was over, the Dude went to sleep on the cell bed, getting an uneasy sleep.
Today was Thursday, and the Dude was still holed up in cellblock "FU" after just getting out of a coma. He had no clue where Larry Chakawitz was, or even Champ, for that matter. He waited long hours for the police to come to his cell to set him free for the interrogation they mentioned. Eventually, just as the sun was going down, a police officer approached with a key ring on his side.
"Looks like it's judgement day for you. Follow me and don't try anything stupid." The police officer opened up the cell door to escort the Dude to the interrogation room. The Dude shrugged and followed the police offer straight to the interrogation room. It was dingy, unsettling, and cramped. A single metal table with some files, two chairs, a one-way mirror, and a security camera were the only objects present. The officer sat down with the Dude, sporting an angry look on his face.
"Now, let's get straight to the matter, mister. Or should I call you "Dude" like everybody else? Here, the police report says that you've had illegal possession of explosives, killed at least twenty people with the very same explosives, one of whom was your wife, mind you. In addition, you've committed thousands of dollars in property damage, illegal narcotic possession, indecent exposure, and that's the stuff we only know about!" the officer said hastily as the Dude listened calmly and quietly to his rap sheet. He leaned back in his chair, acting cocky.
"But, you do know why we didn't leave you out to die in the desert, right mister Dude?"
"Because making a man suffer more than he has to by locking him up behind bars for life turns you on more than leaving him with a bullet in his head?"
"Watch your tone! That's not why we saved you. You're only alive because of me so you can help us catch Larry Chakawitz. Ring any bells? The court-martialed bigot that's leading his own insane war on poverty and drugs that tried to kill you? You know that group of protestors you killed on Tuesday? You think they were just some other druggies? Uh-uh, they were clean; the evidence we recovered from forensics on them confirms this! You were a puppet, as much as you don't want to admit it. You-"
Another police officer walked into the interrogation room. He was at least seven feet tall and had a grizzly beard. He looked at the police officer interrogating the Dude and put a stop to it.
"Dawkins, what's the matter with you? You really want to talk to our only lead like that?" the tall officer said in an old, grizzly voice, with a vague hint of being a past smoker. The officer sitting in the chair looked behind and started to sweat out of embarrassment.
"But, But he-"
"No buts. Get out of here and let me do the talking, unless you want that good conduct record of yours to be a thing of the past."
The cop's eyes were opened completely as he silently got up and left the interrogation room in shame. The tall officer took his place.
"You'll have to excuse Dawkins, he's got the attitude of Chakawitz. Your name's Dude, was it? Quite an odd name indeed, but I suppose it's fitting for someone like you. Name's Warwick. I'm the lead officer trying to track down Chakawitz. The sources pin you as being his most recent handyman. Now, none of us in a uniform are pleased with what you've done, but I think we can cut a deal here."
"I'm pretty sure we can't."
"I disagree. Let me give you a quick rundown on Chakawitz's background. Long story short, he joined the military at an early age just to escape from his cocaine-addicted father, and when the military deported him, his mind snapped. Now with his military connections he has enough arms to wage war against a small country just to take it out on some of the people we're trying to help. You're our only real lead on him, since the other ones simply refuse to talk or got nailed with lethal injection."
"And ain't that a shame," the Dude replied, feeling a bit better that he didn't have to sit here and get yelled at.
"Now, I know what you've done for the most part, and I'm the only one willing to work something out with you. How would you like to go after that bastard yourself? With our help, of course," Warwick offered, instantly catching the Dude's attention, "You bring his head to us, and we can let you go a free man. You don't know how many strings I'm pullin' here just to try and offer this proposition."
"So, I get a shot at the man who shot me for my freedom. If I'm still dreaming you better pinch me."
"And I just did. Your own background suggests you being as bloodthirsty as Chakawitz. It's a good trait to have when it comes to revenge. And that is exactly what we're trying to offer you. We can track down that bastard and finally bring him to justice. What do you say you help out this wretched town and Arizona as a whole?" Warwick proposed to the Dude.
"Hey, it's my funeral anyway. May as well think on whether or not you, I, or cardiac arrest will get to him first. If my dog, champ, safe?"
"We found your dog in the desert by your body and moved it to the local pound for safe keeping. We can return him to you if you take my proposition." Warwick explained, further intriguing the Dude on whether or not to undertake this job.
"Let me in on this so I can get out. "
The Dude had agreed to undertake this job to kill Larry Chakawitz on behalf of the police force in Paradise, Arizona.
"Good man, good man," Warwick applauded for the Dude willing to go after Larry Chakawitz, "Just remember what you're dealing with; I'm sure that head wound of yours is a good reminder. Before you got shot in the head, did Chakawitz talk about where he was going to go next? It's common of him to skip town after one of his accomplices get busted."
The Dude thought back to last night where he was taking a ride with Larry Chakawitz. He focused on the part where the two of them were discussing what happens next. That's when the Dude remembered a crucial piece of information,
"He mentioned going to some place called Catharsis."
"Catharsis? Heh, I haven't heard of that place in years. Figured he'd be trying to hold out there to find some other bastard to get him to do his dirty work. Have you ever been to Catharsis? It's a town worse than this, believe it or not. A lot of flak comes from some fanatical group dubbed the Ecozealots and the local hockey moms. Of course, a lot of it also comes from the general nature of its residents. We can transport you there, if that's where he's currently at."
The Postal Dude agreed with hunting down Larry Chakawitz in Catharsis to help clear his name of the atrocities he committed a few days ago. With that, the interrogation was over as Warwick led him back to his cell.
"We'll move you out Friday morning to Catharsis. We'll also inform the Catharsis police force about your coming so you can get some extra manpower. The bastard's known for not staying in a single town for more than a week, and if he sees you back from the dead he'll most likely try to make a run for it again. We'll hook you up with a radio to quickly contact us once you finish the job. If you screw this up in any way, don't remind us." Warwick explained to the Dude as he closed the cell door behind him. Tomorrow was going to be a big day for not just for the Dude, but for Paradise and Catharsis as a whole.
