Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Language:
English
Collections:
Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
Stats:
Published:
2020-11-05
Words:
911
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
7
Hits:
1,015

A Bad Day

Summary:

just one of those....

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:


A Bad Day
by Charles Langley

"Be glad when a bad day is over," Sergeant Stronsky was wont to say, "because then you can get a head start on a worse one." The Sergeant was an expert on such matters. His Pontiac was on its last legs, his marriage was on the rocks, and his dispepsia had him constantly popping pills. Moreover, he suspected the younger cops of telling Polish jokes behind his back and questioning his authority. In reality, they couldn't remember any jokes and considered him an excellent police officer.

Sgt. Keeley, on the other hand, had a better outlook on life. Even tempered, happily married, mechanic enough to keep both family cars in running order, and usually with a big smile on his handsome face, he had it made. Until today. During the night the power had been off and this morning his alarm clock went off an hour late. When the battery-operated clock in the kitchen made him aware of the problem he quickly threw on yesterday's shirt without looking for a clean one and headed for the station without breakfast, suspecting that he smelled from perspiration.

His first call was a family problem. The husband was drunk, the wife was furious and the baby was screaming. When he finally got things settled down he held the baby while the wife got the husband in bed to sleep it off. The baby wet him and he stopped worrying about his perspiration odor.

Back at the station the officers' union warned him about an impending strike call.

An Internal Affairs Officer came in to question him about one of his better cops.

It was one damned thing after another until it was time to go home. Two blocks from the station the police scanner in his car reported a blue and white Oldsmobile speeding through a residential neighborhood a block away. He headed that way, in case he could be of help.

Cleve Washington wouldn't have stolen the car if temptation hadn't been put in his way. He would have just taken the bus to the job interview that would have kept him in good standing with his parole officer. But the beautiful Oldsmobile with the driver's door open and the motor running was more than he could resist. He slid in on the leather seat and eased the car out into the street. He was admiring the beautiful interior when he went through the red light without seeing it. A flashing red light and a police siren brought him back to the reality that he might be on his way back to jail. Flooring the accelerator, he began a wild ride careening through the quiet streets. The police car was pushing him hard when he saw a civilian car join in the chase.

He didn't see the little Escortstation wagon with the woman and two children pull out of MacDonalds. He never saw anything else.

When Keeley pulled up, police from two cars were on the scene. The Oldsmobile was on fire, the driver, head down on the wheel, barely visible through the roaring flames. The Escort could hardly be recognized as a car, it was so badly damaged.

"Nothing we can do," said the Officer in Charge. "We're trying to put out the fire, but it's too late for the driver. A witness said there are three people in the little car. We'll have to cut them out, but they can't possible be still alive. You might as well go on home. There's nothing you can do here."

Keeley started home again, his head awhirl and his stomach weak. He saw the neon of Buddy's Bar and Grill and pulled in for a cup of coffee to quiet his nerves. He settled for Canadian Club and ginger instead. The hectic day and the drink on an empty and queasy stomach was too much for him. When the bartender came into the back room at closing time he was still there fast asleep.

Eileen was asleep on the couch when he got home.

"You picked a helluva time to get drunk," she said. "The guests are all gone and the party is ruined."

Never in his married life had Keeley ever lifted his hand against his wife. But this day had pushed him off the deep end. He hit her with a hard right. She fell, grasping for something to steady her. Her hand caught on the butte of his service revolver. She didn't know she was lifting it, didn't know her finger was on the trigger, until she heard the roar. Horrified, when she saw what she had done she pointed the gun at herself. There was another explosion.

Sgt. Stronsky took the call. He was an experienced police officer and had seen things like this before. But not with someone who had worked with him side by side every day.

"Looks like he won't be glad his bad day is over," he offered, "He can't look forward to the start of a worse one."

"Take care of the details with the M.E. when he gets here," he told another officer, "I'm outta here."

Gazing around the room, his eyes fixed on the beautiful cake on the kitchen table, the candles still unlit. "Happy Birthday, Dan," was scribed on the top, "I Love You."

He picked up a knife and cut himself a large slice, then headed out to face his upcoming worse day.

30

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Charles Langley.
If this work is yours and you would like to reclaim ownership, you can click on the Technical Support and Feedback link at the bottom fo the page.