MARCH 18, 2021
4:45 AM
Deputy Ernesto Miranda and Patrolman Ray Stevens quietly entered the dimly lit bullpen of the Mud Lick Sheriff’s Department. Both men were, to put it charitably, extremely hung over.
It wasn’t as if this was unexpected. The night before, both men attended the Grassy Knoll Pub’s “Irish Day” celebration, where the citizens of Mud Lick, like many Americans, used the holiday to get stinking drunk and pretend to be Irish.
Miranda moved through the office quietly, turning on lights, booting up his desk computer and starting a pot of coffee. Stevens, a new transfer, crashed into a file cabinet.
“Quiet!” Miranda hissed. “If he’s here and knows what condition you’re in, it’s a guaranteed world of hurt!”
“And unlike Stevens over there, you’ve been here long enough to know better, Deputy. Alexa, illuminate.”
The fluorescent lights overhead burst to life. A vague image of Sheriff Roy Templeton appeared in the vision of both men as they struggled to regain composure.
Sheriff Roy jumped up from behind a desk and greeted his men cheerily. “Morning boys, how are ya? Let me ask you something, Stevens.”
The Sheriff leaned into the newest member of Mud Lick’s finest, sporting mirrored aviator shades, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “IS IT TOO BRIGHT IN HERE FOR YOU?”
Stevens recoiled. This amused Sheriff Roy. “That’s what I pulled on Deputy Miranda when he came in here the day after Saint Paddy’s when he first started working here. Never fails. Let me tell you boys what ‘I’ did last night.”
With that, Sheriff Roy leaned back in a nearby chair. “I went to the new Waffle House in Driftwood County. I ordered a steak and country ham. I took them home, ate and fell asleep in my recliner watching ‘Ancient Aliens.’ That’s what you call ‘clean living,’ gentlemen, and that’s why I run this department.”
Deputy Miranda, sensing some punishment coming for the previous night’s indiscretions, muttered something about having to check on the Cocke brothers at Garage 66.
“Before you go, Deputy, I thought you might want to check out my new ring tone I picked out for you.” Sheriff Roy replied. “Alexa, play Deputy Miranda’s new song.”
A speaker in the corner announced “Now Playing ‘The Fire Burns’ by Killswitch Engage.” High tempo death metal blared from seemingly every corner. It was too much for Officer Stevens, who puked into a nearby trash can.
“Sheriff, I give. I was dumber than Lane Kiffin doing interviews in front of the team bus.” Miranda stammered through the pain and disorientation.
“Alexa stop.” Sheriff Roy said. The music mercifully ceased.
“You’ll be on about your day, Deputy Miranda,” Sheriff Roy told his second in command. Fishing in his pocket, he tossed Miranda a small packet. “Electrolytes,” the Sheriff said. “Cass at the Knoll turned me on to these last year. I figured I’d order some just in case.”
Miranda accepted the gift and headed for the motor pool.
Turning to Stevens, Sheriff Roy fixed his new hire with a malicious grin. “You look in perfect condition to join me for some PT this morning, Stevens!”
Ray Stevens turned paler and asked weakly for aspirin and water. Sheriff Roy tossed a packet of Goody’s Headache Powder and a bottle of Dasani on the table near Stevens, then said “Change out into sweats and meet me outside for fifty burpees and a two mile run.”
Stevens powered through the torture, even managing to respond to some of Sheriff Roy’s Marine inspired jogging chants. He finished the morning with a bottle of Gatorade and a cup of coffee.
He would visit Sheriff Roy once more that day, at the end of his shift.
“Sheriff?”
“What’s on your mind, Stevens?”
“I wanted to apologize for coming to work hung over. I get the sense you don’t like that.”
Sheriff Roy smiled. “All’s well. You’ve no heat with me. I expect my men and women to be community leaders on and off the clock. Next time you want to over indulge, do it at home.”
“Noted. Sheriff. You got a problem with Saint Paddy’s Day?”
Sheriff Roy paused for a moment in thought. “No. I take issue when people use a holiday as an excuse to break the law and act like fools. Especially when that holiday means something entirely different to a whole other group of people.”
“That’s pretty cool of you, Sheriff.”
“No, son, it’s called intellectual honesty. Few men understand that today.”
“He’s not kidding,” Deputy Miranda said, sticking his head in Sheriff Roy’s office. “You should see what he does after Cinco De Mayo.”
And Mud Lick’s newest lawman spent every Saint Paddy’s Day after that by having one pint of Guinness and turning in early, lest he incur Sheriff Roy’s wrath again.
No comments:
Post a Comment