|phoenixfire12 (phoenixfire12) wrote in dsrevival,|
@ 2010-12-29 16:25:00
|Current mood:||Evil Deputy|
Just A Pack of Smokes
Nothing that couldn’t be cured with a couple of syringes of penicillin, Jonathan's twin brother Stephen would say. Typical of a paramedic.
Still, there was a time some years ago when Jonathan had actually had a date or two with her. Thinking about it, she’d always had a taste for leather, beer and motorcycles. Any leather, beer and motorcycle rider would do. Him included. At puberty her wild streak had kicked in and it showed no signs of slowing down once she turned 21. It just became no fun sneaking alcohol when she came of age.
“Nothing as low on the evolutionary ladder as you are. Oh, wait, there’s nothing as low on that ladder as you. I forgot. My bad.” Before Muscles had the chance to open his mouth, Harker finished with " 'cept maybe your brother, Buz."
Pissed, Hackett scribbled across the bottom of the book and all but threw it back at the deputy. He just snorted as his nemesis in uniform caught it and tore off a copy, handing it back to him.
“You’re a pig!”
“And you parked your motorcycle in a handicap parking spot.”
“I was just in the store for a minute. I needed a pack of smokes.”
“That’s one expensive pack of cigarettes. You should try parking one spot over,” Jonathan said with a nod of his head to the empty spot adjacent them. “Not only is the rent cheaper, so are the smokes.”
“You done clowning, ‘cuz I gotta be elsewhere.”
“Have a nice day… Sunshine.”
As he watched the motorcycle roar off down the street with its operator, Deputy Jonathan Harker's smile grew bigger.
Damn. It was good to be a cop on the streets of Collinsport, Maine today. Plenty of sun, fresh sea air, tickets to write… toughs to piss off.
Ayup, as Sheriff Patterson would say. Life was good.