Tuesday, January 7, 2014

"BAG IT AND TAKE IT IN."



  Lacey sat up. Someone had pointed in our direction and a burly motorcycle cop in a blue uniform and black boots came over with his pad out and began writing down Lacey’s name and address.
  “Did you see the driver’s face?” he asked, without looking up.
  “I tried—his head was turned the other way,” Lacey said.
  “Did you see the license plate?”
  “It happened so fast, officer.  Surely someone did.”
  The officer shook his head. “Looks like he got clean away,” he said. “But we’ll keep trying. Sometimes people wait a while before coming forward. He asked Lacey to be available for further questioning if necessary.
  We all heard the shout—“Hey, Burnett, get a load of this.”  It came from a guy in an orange vest on his hands and knees staring at something in the gutter. The officer snapped his pad shut and we followed him.
  “You won’t believe this,” the guy in the vest said.
  The three of us bent over and stared. Staring back at us were two pairs of eyes belonging to a bride and groom sitting atop the remains of a wedding cake. Both looked surprised and helpless as they sank into the mash of white icing and yellow doughy texture. The whole thing was in a white box with a tire print on the edge.
  The officer scratched his head and squinted. “What’s this supposed to be? Someone getting married?”  He turned to Lacey. “Was your friend getting married by any chance?”
  “Good Heavens, no,” Lacey said. “That was ages ago. She was divorced.”
  “It was just lying there,” the man in the vest said. “What the Hell should we do—eat it?”
  Officer Burnett shrugged. “Bag it and take it in.”

--From THE VIEW FROM WALDEN PARK

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