On the Table   Leave a comment

83 pctPolice Officers Sean and Harry were members of the NYPD. They had stopped for coffee when the radio crackled. It was Central with a job, a DOA on Gates Avenue. Of course it was on the second floor no one ever dies on the first floor. Sean and Harry walked in and sure as hell, there he was dead as he could be. There were three other men in the apartment. They were playing cards and drinking all night long. They didn’t stop for a little thing like one of the group keeling over on the coffee table. They just pushed him to the side and resumed dealing and drinking. As they were running low on wine they thought they would have to do something about their friend and called the cops.

That got the cops  there. Sean radioed for the Patrol Sergeant, the Medical Examiner and the squad. The ME showed up and decided there would be an autopsy. The squad came and talked to drunken assholes one, two and three then left. The Sergeant told Sean and Harry they would have to wait for the morgue wagon since he had no footman available to assign it to. Sean called the ME’s Office and was told it was pretty quiet, they should be there in about a half hour. Great news since at times you could sit a whole day waiting for them to show up.

So now all they had to do was stand there and wait for the deadmobile.  They had to stand because you don’t want to bring home roaches that crawled onto your clothes. The clothes were uninhabited when they put them on. It was preferred that the same could be said when the clothes were taken off.

Drunk number one was babbling on. Sean was not really listening until he started getting pissed off.

“That mothers not coming to this house again. If he does I will kick his damn ass.”

Then Sean started paying attention because if he was going to be up there in the middle of a drunk fight he wanted to be ready for it. Sean pointed to the other two drunks.

“Which one’s ass are you looking to kick?”

“Not them, that mother.”

He pointed to the dead guy.

“I invite him over to play cards and drink some wine. The bastard dies right in the middle of my living room, lying on my table. That bastard better not come back here to drink my wine. If he does I’ll kick his damn ass.”

“You do what you have to do but if that asshole gets up and starts drinking wine you won’t see me here. If he goes all zombie here I’ll be gone in a cloud of sneaker smoke.”

When the job was done and they were back in their patrol car Sean turned to Harry and said, “I think this was the type of job I needed, stupid shit to laugh at. A call where we didn’t have to smack the hell out of anybody. I have a week of day tours left then I am gone for two weeks. I’m going to Seaside Park for needed R and R. I really need to unwind.”

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Posted August 20, 2013 by kevingcox in Uncategorized

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