Cop on the Edge, Episode 1

M. Stanley Bubien

I had waited long enough. It was time to take matters into my own hands. Pulling my gun, I yelled, "Okay, punk! Move away from that counter!"

He spun on me, but his arms flew into the air, "Don't shoot! I ain't done nothin'."

"Shut up!" I barked.

He clamped tight, but kept whimpering. I took a step and raised the barrel to eye level. This had just the effect I was looking for---he stopped breathing.

I waved my gun to the right, "Real slow like, I want you on the floor."

Bending down, he stuck his hands out to lean on.

"Keep 'em where I can see 'em!"

He pushed his arms back into the air and went down face-first---funny how a punk's head bounces off linoleum like that.

After flicking my cuffs on him and reholstering my .357, I turned to the proprietor of this fine establishment. "Sorry for the commotion, ma'am."

Her lips bent into a pout.

"I hate startin' my day with a hold up," I explained.

The owner cocked her head at the punk, and in a husky voice said, "Some have it tough. Decisions like this can come hard."

"Sometimes I ain't got the patience."

"Hmm." She responded, leaning on the counter. "You want something?"

She knew I did. But I had to prove I was good at decisions that came hard.

Peering into her starry eyes, I said, "Yeah, I want somethin'... Gimme a glazed, a chocolate, and a jelly filled---I just love those jelly filled!"

Copyright ©1996 M. Stanley Bubien. All Rights Reserved.

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March/April 1996 Issue #1

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