The Dick by bhogg Flash Fiction Writing Contest contest entry |
The doorbell rang, so I walked over and peered through the peep-hole. Yep, the guy out front was a dick. Oops to be more politically correct, I should say police detective. How did I know you ask? Well, plaid sports coat and an oversized bright flowery tie. Not a good look. Short hair, brushed back, sticking up a bit in front. My God, I thought Brylcreem was a thing of the past. The giveaway though was the match that was hanging out the side of his mouth. I watched as he effortlessly switched the location from right to left.
Embarrassed to say, but from experience, I know what a policeman looks like. So, I've had my run ins with the law. Most is bullshit. It shouldn't be against the law to smoke a doobie from time to time and to play your music on the loud side. Hell, when I stole the stereo speaker, it wasn't your normal Walmart special, it was a Sennheiser Ambeo Soundbar. You wouldn't believe how good it sounds with the big screen tv I picked up from those new expensive condos by the bay. No time to panic. I could always sneak out to my garage, get into my car and buzz out. Usually, I only drive the car at night. It's stolen...not by me by the way, but I did buy it from the guy who stole it. It's a Porsche 911, not the fancy kind, just the vanilla variety. It's not like it's the only one in town and I did have it repainted. But wait, the cops, tired, old, un-marked Crown Vic is blocking my driveway. Looks like I might have to finesse my way through this. Loudly, I asked, "What do you want?" The response back, "I don't really want anything Sir. I'm Sergeant Kelly from County Metro. I just want to ask you a question." "Do you have a warrant?" "Well, Sir, why would I need a warrant? I just want to ask the question. It's kind of awkward yelling through your door. Could you let me in?" "I don't think it's a good idea to let you in. I was exposed last week to a little-old-lady whose bridge partner tested positive for Covid-19. It would be horrible if you contracted the disease from me." Cautiously, I peered back through the peephole. The officer now had a protective mask on. He said, "Look, we don't really need to talk indoors. Why don't you come on out? I'll step back off your porch and you can stay on the top stoop. We'll easily be six feet apart." I'm screwed. It's going to look bad to not do as he asked. I opened the door and stepped out. "All right, what do you want?" "Nothing much, Sir. I'm just collecting for the Policeman's Benevolent Society. Can we count on you for a donation?" Now what do I do? All I have is Counterfeit Hundred's. They're good ones though. I'll ask for change.
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bhogg
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