"I hate you."

The deputy didn't look up from his ticket book, but kept writing.

The tough in the motorcycle jacket took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke at the deputy.

The officer didn’t flinch.

“I said I HATE YOU!”

Nothing.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Muscles said raising his voice. “I said I… HATE… YOU!”

Un-real! Not only was the man blond, but deaf as a post as well.

“You freakin’ deaf, man?”

The officer didn’t move, but only looked up from the pad he was writing on and gave the tough ‘that look.’

“I will be if you keep shouting, Hackett.” With a final stroke of the pen in his hand, Jonathan Harker looked up and handed the ticket book to the leather clad man leaning against his motorcycle saddle. “You know where to sign, Muscles. God knows you’ve had enough of these in your life.”

“I can refuse.”

“Just means the judge will issue a bench warrant and I’ll just have to drag your ass out of Gloria’s bed… just like last time.”

“Fuck you.”

Harker chuckled. “You’re not my type.”

“Just what is your type, Harker?”

Jonathan had to bite his tongue as he smiled. He’d almost said Gloria, but had the presence of mind not to. She may be a beautiful woman, but her taste in men left a lot to be desired… and a little to be concerned about as well. No telling where any of the guys she’d dated over the past few years have been. While Gloria Lang was the only daughter of one of the local hospital doctors, she comported herself as anything but respectable. It was really no surprise that his High School classmate would be dating a degenerate like Muscles Hackett.

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.


{End Scene}