Robert P. Herbst
09-04-2007, 08:03 PM
CHRISTMAS 1994
Written November 9, 1994 Fiction 3666 Words.
Copyright © 1994 Robert P. Herbst. All rights reserved.
By
Robert P. Herbst
It’s one of those cold clear December nights, the kind all "Transplanted Yankees" look forward to, once having moved to Florida.
Mount Perry is a quiet little town on the West Coast of Florida, about half way between Tallahassee and Tampa. It's a town where nothing much ever happens. The quiet nature of the town is why I took a job as a Uniformed Patrolman with the local Police Department.
Now here I am, in the middle of the night, standing on the corner of Green and Jefferson Streets protecting the sleeping town from the night time transgressions of perspective perpetrators. I have been patrolling these streets for three years now and have never even had call to raise my voice in anger. It was a great job in a great town. I got paid for doing nothing. Best of all, the more nothing I had to do, the better the people of the town seemed to like it.
On this particular night, I had the graveyard shift, midnight to eight. It was a tough shift because nothing ever happened during these hours. There was nothing open and no one to talk to.
Headquarters, just a few blocks away, was the only place in town with hot fresh coffee and day old doughnuts. Day old doughnuts aren't bad at all, when they're the only doughnuts in town.
As for the coffee, well, someone had stenciled the words "Hazardous Waste Material" on the side of the pot. I thought this was adequately descriptive. Even so, it was fresh and, at that late hour, the only hot coffee in town.
The street light flashed red on Jefferson St. and the light reflected off my brightly polished shoes. I debated the short walk to headquarters for a snack and some coffee. Instead I stood there watching the reflected light because it was the only thing moving at this hour.
It occurred to me to wonder if, like the tree falling in the woods without a sound, do cars really stop at the red light if no one is around to see them. Of course, I would never know. When I was there, everyone stopped at the red light. The uniform probably had something to do with it.
I was about to start contemplating the chicken and the egg conundrum when I was abruptly startled out of my deliberation.
Without warning, something overhead caught my attention. I looked up but saw nothing.
Using my high powered flashlight, I searched the line where the wall met the roof of the buildings around me. Everything seemed quiet. There was absolutely nothing out of place. Yet, I could have sworn something had passed over my head only moments before.
Using my shoulder mounted two way radio, I called headquarters and let them know I thought I had heard something. I was told to lay off the egg nog and we both had a good laugh. Then I remembered, it was Christmas Eve. "And all through the town, not a creature stirred." I was all alone on the street.
I leaned back against the wall of the local office supply company and let my mind relax. It was cool, quiet and so clear the sky was alive with stars. Only an occasional cloud slid by. Why make problems? It was probably only my imagination working overtime.
Something fell to the sidewalk beside me. It sounded soft and wet. I pointed my light at the place the sound had come from and found a small spot of some kind of brownish material. I touched it with the point of my shoe, it was soft. Breaking a small twig off a nearby tree, I prodded the little pile. Picking some of it up on the end of the twig I sniffed at it, the stuff had a vile smell.
No, It couldn't be. Not here in the center of town and in the middle of the night. Yet what else was there which was soft, brown and smelled bad. It sure wasn't ice cream! This was definitely not my imagination.
Further investigation was obviously required. Once again I searched the roof line above me. Nothing! A large cloud slid slowly over the moon, and the world above me turned inky black. If there were something up there, it couldn't have wanted better cover. The streetlight was shaded so it illuminated only about half way up the walls of the two story buildings around me. Above this line, only darkness.
Then I heard a faint noise from the roof right above my head. It sounded like pebbles being moved about. I flattened myself against the wall and listened again. There was definitely movement up there. Fear gripped my heart. Three years on the force, and this was the first time there had ever been a problem.
What with the streetlight flooding the area with light, my dark uniform was a perfect contrast to the white wall I pressed my back against. I felt as if I stuck out like a sore thumb.
The suspected perpetrator, on the other hand, had the benefit of the murky blackness up on the roof top. This couldn't be happening in my nice quiet little town.
In a whisper voice I called headquarters again. "There's something moving about on the roof of the office supply building!" I said.
The answer was quick, professional, and quiet. "We're on our way. Hold your position!"
Aside from the fact I needed better cover, I couldn't resist the temptation to see what was going on up there. Ignoring my orders to stay where I was. I moved quietly around the corner and toward the back of the building. I lived on the second floor of this place. I knew there was a door, by the back corner, which led to a flight of stairs which would get me to the roof.
As I moved along the wall I couldn't help but wonder why the perpetrator had picked this building. No one steals office supplies, and I sure didn't have anything worth stealing. What was he doing up there?
There was little danger of the perpetrator going anywhere. There was no other way to get off the roof short of jumping. It was a full twenty-five or better feet from the roof to the street below and no fire escape. Unless the perpetrator could fly, I had him cold. The big questions in my mind at the moment was, "Was the perpetrator armed? If so, with what?"
Ever so quietly, I pulled my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door. I moved up one step at a time, being careful not to make any noise. I held my breath at each step praying the tread would not creak under my weight and give me away. In my mind I heard a loud, "Creak!" followed by a hail of bullets from the dark area at the top of the stairs.
Who knows what kind of deranged fiend prowls about on roof tops in the middle of the night dropping bits of who-knows-what over the edge. In my mind's eye I now pictured a NINJA type, clad from head to toe in black with only his sinister eyes visible above the black mask which covered the rest of his face. He was slinking about near the edge of the roof looking for targets of opportunity. I had obviously been one such target. Fortunately, for me, he missed.
In his left hand he carried a bag which he opened periodically to remove hand fulls of vile smelling stuff. He immediately hurled the stuff over the edge of the roof with his right hand. Once having done this, he would cover his masked face with his throwing arm and chortle uncontrollably. This despicable fiend had to be stopped at all cost!
An overactive imagination? Who, me?
Nearing the door to the roof, I drew my .44 magnum and slowly pulled the hammer back. The outrageous nature of this perpetrator dictated the use of deadly force. As the sear and trigger release clicked into place, they made a horrendous noise. I was sure they could be heard at least a block away. A cold sweat now beaded my face. I had read all about Ninjas. They were highly trained professional killers and very dangerous.
At the door to the roof, I drew a long breath and slowly turned the knob. The door swung quietly open and the cold night air rushed past me into the stairway turning the sweat on my face icy cold. Bolstering my courage with thoughts of the public service I was about to perform, I moved slowly into the doorway.
There was a slight noise out there in the dark, but the cloud still covered the moon, and I could see nothing. Summoning my last ounce of courage, I stepped out onto the roof, gun and flashlight at the ready.
Reality crashed in on me, Ninjas didn't make noise. This had to be a plain household-type burglar. What a disappointment.
As I stood there in the dark, I was suddenly conscious there were noises coming from several sources. This meant there were several perpetrators on the roof with me. I was in big trouble. Judging by the number of noise sources, I had blundered into a burglar convention. Things might not be so bad after all.
I whispered into the radio, "Good Grief! The whole roof is crawling with perpetrators! For heavens sake send help! Don't answer! I'm out on the roof with them, and the noise will give me away." There was a single “click” from the radio indicating my instructions had been understood.
Moving from the doorway, I crept quietly over to the edge of the roof. This was scary stuff. My imagination took over again. I could now see, in my mind's eye, several Ninja types creeping up on me from several different directions through the darkness. Each one ready to do me great bodily harm with a great variety of sadistic-looking weapons.
As I moved toward the parapet of the roof, I was looking for a spot where I could look over the edge into the street below and still be able to see every part of the roof around me. I wanted to be sure my backup was there before I did anything and I wanted to be absolutely sure none of the Ninja types could sneak up on me unseen. Although, just how I expected to see anything in all this inky darkness is a very good question.
Crouching down near the edge where I had good cover, an excellent vantage point of both the street below and a majority of the roof, I quietly waited for my backup to arrive. I was no hero, and I didn't want anyone thinking I was going to do this again, voluntarily, under any conditions.
Gradually, the cloud moved away from in front of the moon and part of the roof was flooded with moonlight. There, by the smoke pipe from the pot bellied stove in my apartment, was a rather rotund, bearded man. He was apparently trying to stuff a bag or something down the six-inch pipe. It almost looked as if he intended to stuff himself down the pipe along with the bag, but it was still too dark to tell for sure.
He was in for a big surprise, I had a fire going in the pot bellied stove to take the chill off my apartment. Then again, maybe I was the one who was in for the surprise. With the smoke pipe blocked my apartment would rapidly fill with smoke.
Quickly, I scanned the rest of the roof for the other perpetrators I had imagined. The man by the pipe seemed to be alone. This would not look good on my record. After all, I had told headquarters the place was crawling with burglars. Still, there was hope, the far side of the roof was yet cloaked in darkness.
Just about this time I heard the sound of a car out in the street. I looked over the edge and was relieved to see the black and white coloration of a patrol car. The figure over by the pipe looked up as if startled by the same sound. I heard more cars arriving below me.
The time to act was now! Ignoring the fact there was sure to be more than this one person on the roof with me, I stood up. I waved to my fellow patrolmen in the street below, to let them know where I was. Then pointing my gun at the figure by the smoke pipe, I turned on my light and, in a stern voice, shouted "Freeze!"
The man by the pipe seemed totally confused by my sudden appearance and the bright light from my flashlight. He didn't seem to know just what to do. Suddenly, he threw up a hand and yelled, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"
Before he could finish, I yelled out, "Ho! Ho! Ho! My foot! Freeze!"
His abrupt motion so startled me, I instinctively pulled the trigger of my gun. The magnum filled the quiet night air with a monumental report. The weapon belched a three foot long plume of flame, as the bullet flew harmlessly out into the dark sky. The recoil from the gun caused the light from my flashlight to skip about the roof a bit and I momentarily lost sight of the man by the pipe.
Instantly the night was no longer quiet. Someone on the street below yelled. "Shots fired! Take cover! Officer needs help!"
Several spotlights came on in the street partially illuminating a scene of total confusion. The spotlights caused large shadows to dance across the roof adding credibility to my thoughts of additional perpetrators.
About this time, my light found the man by the pipe again. The man was heavy set with a long white beard. He was wearing a bright red suit with a white fringe and a funny looking bright red hat. He was so startled by all the commotion the still smoking pipe dropped from his mouth.
From the far side of the roof there was a tremendous uproar. Moonlight now flooded the area also. There were no NINJAS. Instead, this perpetrator had somehow managed to get a whole herd of animals up on the roof with him. The sudden lights and sound of my gun panicked the animals, and they bolted over the edge of the roof.
Apparently the animals were attached to some sort of contraption which they dragged along over the edge with them. The thing seemed to be filled with the same kind of bags the man in the red suit had been trying to stuff down the smoke pipe. It must have been awfully heavy because when the contraption hit the roof parapet it carried a large section of the brick wall along with it into the street.
My fellow officers in the street, seeing the movement at the edge of the roof and hearing my shot, cut loose with everything they had. Rifles, pistols, shotguns, and a couple of sub-machine guns all went off at the same time.
I didn't have time to look at what was going on down there because I had my hands full with the guy in the red suit. He had bolted for the edge of the roof where the animals had gone, waving both hands in the air frantically. He was probably yelling something, but with all the noise coming up from the street, who could hear what he was saying?
I lunged after him and caught up with him about half way to the edge where the animals had gone over. He was overweight and not all quick on his feet. He was however, quite strong and gave me a good fight until I managed to free my baton and whack him on the side of the head a few times.
Now subdued, I put the cuffs on him and read him his rights. I'm not at all sure he heard me though, he was still kind of groggy from the rap on the head I had given him.
Being unsteady on his feet, he stumbled a lot as I dragged him down the stairs to the street and then over to the patrol car.
After pushing him into the back seat of the car, I had a chance to look around. Scattered out into the intersection of Jefferson and Green were eight or nine dead animals, the wreckage of some sort of vehicle, a large number of bags containing colorful packages and hundreds of bricks from the section of the parapet which had been carried away by the vehicle when it went over the edge with the animals.
One of the animals had a bright red nose which was just beginning to fade to black. There were small piles of the brown vile smelling stuff everywhere. What a mess.
Upon closer examination the vehicle appeared to be a sleigh. But a sleigh? Here in Florida? With no snow? There were lots of unanswered questions here. Fortunately, my part of the job was done. The rest of this thing could be unraveled at headquarters.
Anyhow, we now had our perpetrator in custody, it was a good clean bust. I had caught him in the act, and there was no way he could get out of it. Even the best lawyer in the world couldn't beat this rap. We had him cold and dirty.
Later I heard he maintained to the bitter end he was only bringing presents to people and toys to good little children. HA! A likely story. There aren't many kids on the second floor of the office supply building. I know, I live there and my kids are all grown and had moved out years ago. Anyhow, just how much faith can you put in a story told to you by a guy wearing a bright red suit and a name like Sandy Claws.
As I was leaving my shift, at eight in the morning, there were reports coming in on the fax machine:
The F.B.I. had no record of this guy's finger prints.
The I.R.S. wanted to ask him why there were no income tax returns on record for his name.
The Immigration people wanted to know what he was doing in the United States without a green card and exactly how he had gotten from the North Pole into the States without submitting proper identification at a border check point.
The H.R.S wanted to know why he was creeping around in the middle of the night looking for little children with a bag full of toys and candy.
The Humane Society wanted to know what he was doing up on a roof with eight reindeer tied to a heavy sleigh and what he had been feeding the one who's nose had displayed such a bright red color.
The Air Force wanted to know just how he was able to fly about in his sleigh with no visible engine and avoid radar detection.
Lastly, there was a second request from the Social Security people for his Social Security Number.
The idea about him living at the North Pole with his wife and a bunch of dwarfs was kind of far fetched. Good Grief, he couldn't have really expected us to believe all this. This guy had some serious problems.
Still, I felt kind of sorry for him. It was Christmas morning and he looked so pathetic sitting there in his jail cell trying to explain his situation as the tears streamed down his face. The more he explained, the worse it got. Any lawyer, worth his salt, would have told him to put a sock in it and keep absolutely quiet.
When I got back to my apartment it was, indeed, filled with smoke. Obviously the bag the man in the red suit had been trying to stuff down the smoke pipe was still there. I was tired from all the excitement of my shift and the long trek up to the roof did not appeal to me at all. However, the options weighed heavily in favor of removing the bag from the pipe.
The bag had been jammed into the pipe with such force I had to work hard to dislodge it. As it disengaged from the pipe it tore open. Several packages, wrapped in brightly colored paper, fell to the roof at my feet. I picked one of them up and examined it carefully. There was a small tag on it it said simply, "To Bob - From Santa."
"Wow!" I thought, I caught this perpetrator as he was leaving my apartment! What luck. My Christmas would not be ruined after all. Now all I had to do was vent the smoke out of the apartment and things would settle back to normal.
One of the fellows at headquarters was a part time butcher. He had been given the job of cleaning up the mess at the intersection of Jefferson and Green Streets. He had given away the deer meat to the officers on my shift. I couldn't help but wonder if the meat I got came from the animal which had the odd red nose.
As the part time butcher handed out the neatly wrapped packages of meat he said, "Merry Christmas! You guys sure earned this!"
Later in the day I turned the events of my shift over in my mind. I had cooked breakfast-dinner, I suppose it depends on your definition, and I was chewing away at some great tasting deer meat. Although it was a bit tough, it was Christmas and it had been a gift.
Somehow, this whole scenario had an oddly familiar ring to it.
Written November 9, 1994 Fiction 3666 Words.
Copyright © 1994 Robert P. Herbst. All rights reserved.
By
Robert P. Herbst
It’s one of those cold clear December nights, the kind all "Transplanted Yankees" look forward to, once having moved to Florida.
Mount Perry is a quiet little town on the West Coast of Florida, about half way between Tallahassee and Tampa. It's a town where nothing much ever happens. The quiet nature of the town is why I took a job as a Uniformed Patrolman with the local Police Department.
Now here I am, in the middle of the night, standing on the corner of Green and Jefferson Streets protecting the sleeping town from the night time transgressions of perspective perpetrators. I have been patrolling these streets for three years now and have never even had call to raise my voice in anger. It was a great job in a great town. I got paid for doing nothing. Best of all, the more nothing I had to do, the better the people of the town seemed to like it.
On this particular night, I had the graveyard shift, midnight to eight. It was a tough shift because nothing ever happened during these hours. There was nothing open and no one to talk to.
Headquarters, just a few blocks away, was the only place in town with hot fresh coffee and day old doughnuts. Day old doughnuts aren't bad at all, when they're the only doughnuts in town.
As for the coffee, well, someone had stenciled the words "Hazardous Waste Material" on the side of the pot. I thought this was adequately descriptive. Even so, it was fresh and, at that late hour, the only hot coffee in town.
The street light flashed red on Jefferson St. and the light reflected off my brightly polished shoes. I debated the short walk to headquarters for a snack and some coffee. Instead I stood there watching the reflected light because it was the only thing moving at this hour.
It occurred to me to wonder if, like the tree falling in the woods without a sound, do cars really stop at the red light if no one is around to see them. Of course, I would never know. When I was there, everyone stopped at the red light. The uniform probably had something to do with it.
I was about to start contemplating the chicken and the egg conundrum when I was abruptly startled out of my deliberation.
Without warning, something overhead caught my attention. I looked up but saw nothing.
Using my high powered flashlight, I searched the line where the wall met the roof of the buildings around me. Everything seemed quiet. There was absolutely nothing out of place. Yet, I could have sworn something had passed over my head only moments before.
Using my shoulder mounted two way radio, I called headquarters and let them know I thought I had heard something. I was told to lay off the egg nog and we both had a good laugh. Then I remembered, it was Christmas Eve. "And all through the town, not a creature stirred." I was all alone on the street.
I leaned back against the wall of the local office supply company and let my mind relax. It was cool, quiet and so clear the sky was alive with stars. Only an occasional cloud slid by. Why make problems? It was probably only my imagination working overtime.
Something fell to the sidewalk beside me. It sounded soft and wet. I pointed my light at the place the sound had come from and found a small spot of some kind of brownish material. I touched it with the point of my shoe, it was soft. Breaking a small twig off a nearby tree, I prodded the little pile. Picking some of it up on the end of the twig I sniffed at it, the stuff had a vile smell.
No, It couldn't be. Not here in the center of town and in the middle of the night. Yet what else was there which was soft, brown and smelled bad. It sure wasn't ice cream! This was definitely not my imagination.
Further investigation was obviously required. Once again I searched the roof line above me. Nothing! A large cloud slid slowly over the moon, and the world above me turned inky black. If there were something up there, it couldn't have wanted better cover. The streetlight was shaded so it illuminated only about half way up the walls of the two story buildings around me. Above this line, only darkness.
Then I heard a faint noise from the roof right above my head. It sounded like pebbles being moved about. I flattened myself against the wall and listened again. There was definitely movement up there. Fear gripped my heart. Three years on the force, and this was the first time there had ever been a problem.
What with the streetlight flooding the area with light, my dark uniform was a perfect contrast to the white wall I pressed my back against. I felt as if I stuck out like a sore thumb.
The suspected perpetrator, on the other hand, had the benefit of the murky blackness up on the roof top. This couldn't be happening in my nice quiet little town.
In a whisper voice I called headquarters again. "There's something moving about on the roof of the office supply building!" I said.
The answer was quick, professional, and quiet. "We're on our way. Hold your position!"
Aside from the fact I needed better cover, I couldn't resist the temptation to see what was going on up there. Ignoring my orders to stay where I was. I moved quietly around the corner and toward the back of the building. I lived on the second floor of this place. I knew there was a door, by the back corner, which led to a flight of stairs which would get me to the roof.
As I moved along the wall I couldn't help but wonder why the perpetrator had picked this building. No one steals office supplies, and I sure didn't have anything worth stealing. What was he doing up there?
There was little danger of the perpetrator going anywhere. There was no other way to get off the roof short of jumping. It was a full twenty-five or better feet from the roof to the street below and no fire escape. Unless the perpetrator could fly, I had him cold. The big questions in my mind at the moment was, "Was the perpetrator armed? If so, with what?"
Ever so quietly, I pulled my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door. I moved up one step at a time, being careful not to make any noise. I held my breath at each step praying the tread would not creak under my weight and give me away. In my mind I heard a loud, "Creak!" followed by a hail of bullets from the dark area at the top of the stairs.
Who knows what kind of deranged fiend prowls about on roof tops in the middle of the night dropping bits of who-knows-what over the edge. In my mind's eye I now pictured a NINJA type, clad from head to toe in black with only his sinister eyes visible above the black mask which covered the rest of his face. He was slinking about near the edge of the roof looking for targets of opportunity. I had obviously been one such target. Fortunately, for me, he missed.
In his left hand he carried a bag which he opened periodically to remove hand fulls of vile smelling stuff. He immediately hurled the stuff over the edge of the roof with his right hand. Once having done this, he would cover his masked face with his throwing arm and chortle uncontrollably. This despicable fiend had to be stopped at all cost!
An overactive imagination? Who, me?
Nearing the door to the roof, I drew my .44 magnum and slowly pulled the hammer back. The outrageous nature of this perpetrator dictated the use of deadly force. As the sear and trigger release clicked into place, they made a horrendous noise. I was sure they could be heard at least a block away. A cold sweat now beaded my face. I had read all about Ninjas. They were highly trained professional killers and very dangerous.
At the door to the roof, I drew a long breath and slowly turned the knob. The door swung quietly open and the cold night air rushed past me into the stairway turning the sweat on my face icy cold. Bolstering my courage with thoughts of the public service I was about to perform, I moved slowly into the doorway.
There was a slight noise out there in the dark, but the cloud still covered the moon, and I could see nothing. Summoning my last ounce of courage, I stepped out onto the roof, gun and flashlight at the ready.
Reality crashed in on me, Ninjas didn't make noise. This had to be a plain household-type burglar. What a disappointment.
As I stood there in the dark, I was suddenly conscious there were noises coming from several sources. This meant there were several perpetrators on the roof with me. I was in big trouble. Judging by the number of noise sources, I had blundered into a burglar convention. Things might not be so bad after all.
I whispered into the radio, "Good Grief! The whole roof is crawling with perpetrators! For heavens sake send help! Don't answer! I'm out on the roof with them, and the noise will give me away." There was a single “click” from the radio indicating my instructions had been understood.
Moving from the doorway, I crept quietly over to the edge of the roof. This was scary stuff. My imagination took over again. I could now see, in my mind's eye, several Ninja types creeping up on me from several different directions through the darkness. Each one ready to do me great bodily harm with a great variety of sadistic-looking weapons.
As I moved toward the parapet of the roof, I was looking for a spot where I could look over the edge into the street below and still be able to see every part of the roof around me. I wanted to be sure my backup was there before I did anything and I wanted to be absolutely sure none of the Ninja types could sneak up on me unseen. Although, just how I expected to see anything in all this inky darkness is a very good question.
Crouching down near the edge where I had good cover, an excellent vantage point of both the street below and a majority of the roof, I quietly waited for my backup to arrive. I was no hero, and I didn't want anyone thinking I was going to do this again, voluntarily, under any conditions.
Gradually, the cloud moved away from in front of the moon and part of the roof was flooded with moonlight. There, by the smoke pipe from the pot bellied stove in my apartment, was a rather rotund, bearded man. He was apparently trying to stuff a bag or something down the six-inch pipe. It almost looked as if he intended to stuff himself down the pipe along with the bag, but it was still too dark to tell for sure.
He was in for a big surprise, I had a fire going in the pot bellied stove to take the chill off my apartment. Then again, maybe I was the one who was in for the surprise. With the smoke pipe blocked my apartment would rapidly fill with smoke.
Quickly, I scanned the rest of the roof for the other perpetrators I had imagined. The man by the pipe seemed to be alone. This would not look good on my record. After all, I had told headquarters the place was crawling with burglars. Still, there was hope, the far side of the roof was yet cloaked in darkness.
Just about this time I heard the sound of a car out in the street. I looked over the edge and was relieved to see the black and white coloration of a patrol car. The figure over by the pipe looked up as if startled by the same sound. I heard more cars arriving below me.
The time to act was now! Ignoring the fact there was sure to be more than this one person on the roof with me, I stood up. I waved to my fellow patrolmen in the street below, to let them know where I was. Then pointing my gun at the figure by the smoke pipe, I turned on my light and, in a stern voice, shouted "Freeze!"
The man by the pipe seemed totally confused by my sudden appearance and the bright light from my flashlight. He didn't seem to know just what to do. Suddenly, he threw up a hand and yelled, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"
Before he could finish, I yelled out, "Ho! Ho! Ho! My foot! Freeze!"
His abrupt motion so startled me, I instinctively pulled the trigger of my gun. The magnum filled the quiet night air with a monumental report. The weapon belched a three foot long plume of flame, as the bullet flew harmlessly out into the dark sky. The recoil from the gun caused the light from my flashlight to skip about the roof a bit and I momentarily lost sight of the man by the pipe.
Instantly the night was no longer quiet. Someone on the street below yelled. "Shots fired! Take cover! Officer needs help!"
Several spotlights came on in the street partially illuminating a scene of total confusion. The spotlights caused large shadows to dance across the roof adding credibility to my thoughts of additional perpetrators.
About this time, my light found the man by the pipe again. The man was heavy set with a long white beard. He was wearing a bright red suit with a white fringe and a funny looking bright red hat. He was so startled by all the commotion the still smoking pipe dropped from his mouth.
From the far side of the roof there was a tremendous uproar. Moonlight now flooded the area also. There were no NINJAS. Instead, this perpetrator had somehow managed to get a whole herd of animals up on the roof with him. The sudden lights and sound of my gun panicked the animals, and they bolted over the edge of the roof.
Apparently the animals were attached to some sort of contraption which they dragged along over the edge with them. The thing seemed to be filled with the same kind of bags the man in the red suit had been trying to stuff down the smoke pipe. It must have been awfully heavy because when the contraption hit the roof parapet it carried a large section of the brick wall along with it into the street.
My fellow officers in the street, seeing the movement at the edge of the roof and hearing my shot, cut loose with everything they had. Rifles, pistols, shotguns, and a couple of sub-machine guns all went off at the same time.
I didn't have time to look at what was going on down there because I had my hands full with the guy in the red suit. He had bolted for the edge of the roof where the animals had gone, waving both hands in the air frantically. He was probably yelling something, but with all the noise coming up from the street, who could hear what he was saying?
I lunged after him and caught up with him about half way to the edge where the animals had gone over. He was overweight and not all quick on his feet. He was however, quite strong and gave me a good fight until I managed to free my baton and whack him on the side of the head a few times.
Now subdued, I put the cuffs on him and read him his rights. I'm not at all sure he heard me though, he was still kind of groggy from the rap on the head I had given him.
Being unsteady on his feet, he stumbled a lot as I dragged him down the stairs to the street and then over to the patrol car.
After pushing him into the back seat of the car, I had a chance to look around. Scattered out into the intersection of Jefferson and Green were eight or nine dead animals, the wreckage of some sort of vehicle, a large number of bags containing colorful packages and hundreds of bricks from the section of the parapet which had been carried away by the vehicle when it went over the edge with the animals.
One of the animals had a bright red nose which was just beginning to fade to black. There were small piles of the brown vile smelling stuff everywhere. What a mess.
Upon closer examination the vehicle appeared to be a sleigh. But a sleigh? Here in Florida? With no snow? There were lots of unanswered questions here. Fortunately, my part of the job was done. The rest of this thing could be unraveled at headquarters.
Anyhow, we now had our perpetrator in custody, it was a good clean bust. I had caught him in the act, and there was no way he could get out of it. Even the best lawyer in the world couldn't beat this rap. We had him cold and dirty.
Later I heard he maintained to the bitter end he was only bringing presents to people and toys to good little children. HA! A likely story. There aren't many kids on the second floor of the office supply building. I know, I live there and my kids are all grown and had moved out years ago. Anyhow, just how much faith can you put in a story told to you by a guy wearing a bright red suit and a name like Sandy Claws.
As I was leaving my shift, at eight in the morning, there were reports coming in on the fax machine:
The F.B.I. had no record of this guy's finger prints.
The I.R.S. wanted to ask him why there were no income tax returns on record for his name.
The Immigration people wanted to know what he was doing in the United States without a green card and exactly how he had gotten from the North Pole into the States without submitting proper identification at a border check point.
The H.R.S wanted to know why he was creeping around in the middle of the night looking for little children with a bag full of toys and candy.
The Humane Society wanted to know what he was doing up on a roof with eight reindeer tied to a heavy sleigh and what he had been feeding the one who's nose had displayed such a bright red color.
The Air Force wanted to know just how he was able to fly about in his sleigh with no visible engine and avoid radar detection.
Lastly, there was a second request from the Social Security people for his Social Security Number.
The idea about him living at the North Pole with his wife and a bunch of dwarfs was kind of far fetched. Good Grief, he couldn't have really expected us to believe all this. This guy had some serious problems.
Still, I felt kind of sorry for him. It was Christmas morning and he looked so pathetic sitting there in his jail cell trying to explain his situation as the tears streamed down his face. The more he explained, the worse it got. Any lawyer, worth his salt, would have told him to put a sock in it and keep absolutely quiet.
When I got back to my apartment it was, indeed, filled with smoke. Obviously the bag the man in the red suit had been trying to stuff down the smoke pipe was still there. I was tired from all the excitement of my shift and the long trek up to the roof did not appeal to me at all. However, the options weighed heavily in favor of removing the bag from the pipe.
The bag had been jammed into the pipe with such force I had to work hard to dislodge it. As it disengaged from the pipe it tore open. Several packages, wrapped in brightly colored paper, fell to the roof at my feet. I picked one of them up and examined it carefully. There was a small tag on it it said simply, "To Bob - From Santa."
"Wow!" I thought, I caught this perpetrator as he was leaving my apartment! What luck. My Christmas would not be ruined after all. Now all I had to do was vent the smoke out of the apartment and things would settle back to normal.
One of the fellows at headquarters was a part time butcher. He had been given the job of cleaning up the mess at the intersection of Jefferson and Green Streets. He had given away the deer meat to the officers on my shift. I couldn't help but wonder if the meat I got came from the animal which had the odd red nose.
As the part time butcher handed out the neatly wrapped packages of meat he said, "Merry Christmas! You guys sure earned this!"
Later in the day I turned the events of my shift over in my mind. I had cooked breakfast-dinner, I suppose it depends on your definition, and I was chewing away at some great tasting deer meat. Although it was a bit tough, it was Christmas and it had been a gift.
Somehow, this whole scenario had an oddly familiar ring to it.