Meanwhile Our Hero composes another letter to the Chief of Police. “Dear Chief Rexler,” he writes, “I am writing once again to ask that you inform your officers of the proper use of the Pager of Justice number. Twice last month I was summoned late at night only to find that I was paged by an inebriated rookie officer at the request of an equally inebriated superior. In both instances, the officers requested I drive them to their homes. On the second occasion, one officer soiled himself, and consequently the backseat of the Justice Car.”
Our Hero stretches and rereads the paragraph. It is satisfactory. Our Hero decides to reward himself for producing and excellent paragraph with a snack. He rises to seek nourishment. In his kitchen he finds a few spoonfuls of peanut butter at the bottom of the jar and the heals of a loaf of white bread. Our Hero chastises himself for not having more heroically nutritious foods on hand. He makes a note on the shopping list he has stuck to the fridge with a limited edition, Mr. Justice Official, Magnet of Justice to buy carrots and apples. He crosses off snack cakes and fish sticks before returning his attention to preparing his sandwich only to discover that he has no clean knives. He finds a dirty knife, still partially encrusted with the leftover peanut butter of a previously consumed sandwich. Our Hero coats the blade with lemon scented anti-bacterial soap and scrapes away the dried food with the scruffy side of his sponge. When the blade is cleaned to Our Hero’s standards, he wipes it dry on his pants leg and makes the sandwich.
The sandwich pleases Our Hero, but soon he realizes that the mass of bread and peanut butter in his mouth is resisting his efforts to swallow. It threatens to choke him. “Not this time, peanut butter,” Our Hero mumbles through the remains of the sandwich. He leaps to the refrigerator and rips open the door. He reaches for the almost empty two litter cola bottle on the bottom shelf and drinks it. The cola has gone flat, but it manages to wash the peanut butter away with it. Our Hero tosses the now empty bottle in the trash, closes the refrigerator door and ads milk to the shopping list.
With his hunger now defeated, Our Hero returns to his computer and continues the letter. “While this behavior is not becoming of an officer in any circumstance, its turpitude is exacerbated by the fact that the officers tied up a valuable resource of the city. Please inform the officers that while I am happy to assist them occasionally in non-emergency situations, the justice car is not a taxi service. I think it is best that all officers have access to the pager of justice’s number as this would allow them to inform me of potentially life threatening situations faster, but if the abuse continues, then I will have no choice but to get a new number for the Pager of Justice which I would only share with you and your second in command. This measure would be unfortunate since it would invariably cost extra time and possibly lives. Sincerely, Mr. Justice.”
Our Hero reads over his the letter. It pleases him, but he realizes that it might be too harshly worded. He adds a post script, “It occurs to me that you might interpret this letter as a desire to be less involved with the maintenance of peace and order in this fair city. I assure you that this is not the case. In fact I wish to be more involved. This letter is meant only to ensure that my services will be put to the best use.” He reads over the letter one more time and prints it and places it in the envelope he has already addressed to the Chief of Police. He sticks it to the refrigerator under the shopping list so he will remember to send it in the morning. On the shopping list below milk, he writes, “Stamps.”
April 22nd, 2009 at 12:37 pm
Great stuff, Pat. As hilarious as it was to hear you read this piece out loud at the Yak. Reading it I notice how well composed it is. Poor guy can’t even mail a letter.