The
engine’s roar could be heard a block away, then quickly drowned out by a
siren’s wail. Neighbors pay no mind when police go code these days – times are
strange. Probably another marriage resorting to fist and nails therapy. But
then another patrol car follows. Then another, and another. People step out on their
front porches.
This
ain’t a domestic issue, this is menace.
“EXIT
THE VEHICLE.” The programmed voice came over the SWAT megaphone. A boom, followed
by yelling. The straights are scared stiff. The faint smell of chemical repellent wafts across the backyard BBQs and pool parties. Silence. Threat
neutralized. Normalcy returns.
The
11 p.m. news reported that a disgruntled man tossed a flaming trashcan through
a gym’s plate glass window. “The arresting officer reported,” the plastic faced
news caster read from the prompter, “that the unidentified perpetrator, before
being tased and maced by SWAT, had become agitated with gym staff for not
providing him access to a treadmill that would, in his words, ‘out run a bad
diet.’ Now to Janet for our weather.”
“Thank
you Ron. I guess he could not, [add air quotes Janet] “Out run a bad case of
whoop ass,” Ron.” [Janet to wink toward camera for added affect.]
