Parrothead Ramblings

Drop the tire iron, Granny, and step slo-o-o-owly away.

It seems every time you check the news, there's some sort of family violence being reported. That kind of thing is so foreign to my entire family that it's hard for me to even imagine. Oh, I did have a cousin once back in Richland Springs, TX who had a wee bit of a drinking problem. The local deputies knew him well, and he probably even had one of those "Otis keys" to the local lockup. He used to knock his wife around sometimes, but she was pretty good at dealing it right back on him. She was twice as mean and three times as ugly as him, and she was a woman of great patience. She knew he had to eventually go to sleep, and the she'd wail on his ass with a fence post. He later went off to that big honky-tonk in the sky when the brakes went out on his pickup and sent him into the San Saba river with about a half-ton of Texas liveoak in his lap. I always heard his wife was a pretty good mechanic, too. Makes you wonder.....

Anyway, when I was a cop, I was always dealing with this "domestic dispute" crapola. My veteran policy was that somebody was going to jail now for whatever charge I could come up with, usually "contempt of cop," or maybe "aggravated ugliness with intent to scare." Whatever the reason, someone was getting arrested and I was done with that couple until my "suspect" could be arraigned and make bail the next morning. Then I would be off-duty.

Like I said, that was my veteran policy. I wasn't always a veteran.

When I was still green, I thought I could counsel and referee my way out of these fights. I got called out on one once and made the rookie mistake of hustling on over there before my backup arrived. Hell, I was Dirty Harry and Dr. Phil all in one crisply uniformed package. Who needs backup? Turns out this one was between Granddaughter and Grandma, who was raising Granddaughter for whatever reason. Grandpa let me in, pointed down the hallway, and went back to reading his paper. He'd seen enough of this shit to not get too excited. I looked down the hallway, and there was Grandma, standing in front of the bathroom door, all 85 pounds of her in PJ's, glasses perched on the end of her nose, and grey hair up in a bun - the perfect picture of a Norman Rockwell Grandma.

Except, that is, for the tire iron in her hand.

"Where's your granddaughter?"

Locked in the bathroom.

"Why?"

Cause I'm gonna beat her ass to a bloody pulp with this here tire iron is why.

"Come on, ma'am. You don't want to do that to your own Granddaughter."

Hell I don't. Fuck do you know about it, anyway?

"You got me there. I suppose you really do want to hurt her."

Damned straight.

"But then you get arrested, go to jail, maybe for a long time. You're in the newspaper, embarrassed, ashamed in front of all your friends and family. And the food really sucks in prison."

Do I look like I eat much, asshole? Got no friends. That asswipe in there behind the newpaper will never notice I'm gone. Rest of my family's dead or already in jail. The ones I got left hate this little bitch worse'n I do. I'll be a hero.

Now I know I'm losing the argument. Gotta get tough. "OK, that's it. Now you knock this off and come away from that door right now, lady!" I see Grandpa out the corner of my eye. He jumps out of his chair and runs for the door

Uh-oh.

YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT JUST CUZ YOU GOT A BADGE!!!!

She's pointing that tire iron at me now, thrusting it like an exclamation point on each word. I can see the headlines in tomorrow's paper. I have to choose between:

OFFICER BEATEN SENSELESS BY 85 YEAR OLD GRANDMOTHER, or

85 YEAR OLD GRANNIE BRUTALIZED BY POLICE OFFICER

I didn't like either option, so I started backing up. It was about then, with Grandma's attention on Officer Friendly here, that Granddaughter made her move. The bathroom door flew open, and out comes Granddaughter at a dead sprint, all 220 pounds of her, screaming like a scalded cat. She brushes right past Grandma before she can even react. Grandma swings her tire iron, gets nothing but air. Granddaughter runs over me like a linebacker, knocks me on my ass, and never slows down. I realize she doesn't want a piece of me, she just wants the hell out of there. She never breaks stride, hits the front door and disappears. If I could just get to my feet and beat Grandma to the door, I was gonna do the same thing. Disappear. Let Grandpa sort this one out.

Too late. Grandma's in hot pursuit, plants her foot in my gut and mashes out what litte bit of air is still in me, runs over me and out the door. It took me a minute to get my breath back, then I crawled to my feet and went outside. My backup, Mike, has arrived. He has granddaughter safely handcuffed and leaning on his car. Grandma's tire iron in his right hand, and in his left is her forehead. She's swinging like a middleweight, but Mike's arm is too long. She can't reach him. She finally runs out of gas, collapses at his feet and gives up. Mike hasn't even broken a sweat.

Fuck's your problem, rook? Can't handle a couple of girls?

So, my late-arriving backup gets two arrests and clears an assault. Me? I get "experience." And the derision of my squad for like the next six months.

But no headlines.

I got that going for me.
  |