The call came in at 9:45 the Saturday before New Year's. All the alarms had gone off at Dickerson Elementary School. That meant the fire department, rescue squad, and my partner and I would be showing up, along with a bunch of other bored officers. Not that we mind boring. Boring is good for us. Boring is safe and preferable to exciting, which can be dangerous.
"Hey, Tucker, do you think Santa Claus got lost on his way back to the North Pole and crashed into the school? Maybe we'll have to ticket him for drunk driving. You can write that ticket. I'm already on his naughty list."
"I'm sure you are, Smitty. You're a very naughty girl. I now know that for a fact," Tucker joked, winking at me.
Tucker and I have been partners on patrol for seven years. Something changed a while ago while we were on a missing person's call. Neither of us has quite figured out what happened. But we have become a bit more than just patrol buddies. That's a problem we have chosen to ignore for the time being. Why mess up a perfect working partnership if the other partnership doesn't last?
Being the first to arrive at the scene of the crime, we pulled up close to the building and did a perimeter search to see if there was a forced entry.
"Yo, Smitty, this guy wasn't very smart! The inside and outside doors are both smashed to shit."
We pulled our service weapons and entered the school back to back, searching for the perp up one hallway and down another. Opening classroom doors, checking them thoroughly, and then closing the doors behind us. The sirens from the firetrucks and other units blared onto the property, and I hit my radio to let dispatch know we were in the building and told them where the breach had occurred.
"Smitty, look, the walls are scratched up and..."
Tucker went down. Hard. Right on his ass. I tried not to laugh at him. But, hell. It was funny, though.
"What the fuck? I slipped on something. Man, I'm too old for this shit," Tuck groaned as I helped him up off the floor once I stopped laughing. "You're a big help, Smitty. I could have taken a hit, you know, and you're laughing your ass off."
"Sorry, but you did an Olympic-style ass dive. It was beautiful. I give you a ten out of ten," I giggled, "Don't worry, I'll give you a back rub tonight and make you forget all about it."
"Shhh. Jesus, do you have your radio on?" Tucker warned.
Not one to take much seriously, I said loudly, "I don't know, Tuck, why? Do you think dispatch will tell everyone we're fucking?"
He just slapped his forehead and rolled his eyes at me as we continued our search of the interior. By then, more units had entered the building, giving us their locations so we didn't cramp each other's styles. Down a hallway, we heard something crash, and we raced toward the noise to find another officer down. Crouching and looking in all directions, the other officer's partner, Tuck, and I couldn't see anything or anyone who might have attacked him.
"Son of a bitch. I slipped on something, and my feet shot right out from under me," the fallen officer complained.
"No shot?" Tucker asked.
"Nope. Just a slippery fucking floor. Sheesh," The officer said.
We joined the other two officers on our search and heard glass shattering halfway down another hallway. Racing down the hall, my feet slipped out from under me, and I landed on my knees and an elbow, dropping my service weapon on the slippery tile floor.
"Seven out of Ten, Smitty," Tucker announced proudly before helping me up. I was tempted to trip him and put him on his back but didn't want to damage him before we went home after our shift. I had plans that broken bones would interfere with.
When we caught up with the other officers, they were inspecting a broken plate glass window in the school cafeteria. Now we knew how the perp had entered and exited. What we didn't know is why. Was it bored kids having fun vandalizing a vacant school building? There wasn't anything worth much in the place besides some computers. Most kids had better electronics at home. So, why?
There was another loud crash outside the cafeteria, and we all rushed to investigate. Laid out on his back was a buddy of ours, Jack. Oh, boy, he was getting ready to retire at the end of the year in just a few days.
"What the fuck is going on? These floors are slicker than snot on a doorknob. We've been slipping and sliding the whole time. I better not have a broken bone. My wife and I are going to Florida on the first of the year, and I plan on playing golf while you suckers freeze," Jack moaned.
We all helped him up and after checking himself out, he declared himself safe to putt. Thank God. Don't mess with a cop one week away from retirement. I touched my radio and let dispatch know the firemen and rescue teams could go home. We had it under control. Whoever had broken in was long gone.
Meanwhile, dispatch had contacted the school's principal, who sent over a few custodians to temporarily patch the broken doors and window. The other officers went on their merry way. Tuck and I waited for the custodians to finish boarding up the glass before our shift ended. Our conclusion: kids breaking into the school, then breaking out of the school. When everyone returns from the holiday vacation, they can do a proper inventory and update us. We could do nothing more except make sure the school was buttoned up, write our reports, and call it a night.
At the diner, we rehashed our exciting evening of mysterious crashes and slippery footing. I was the first to notice it—the brown smudge on Tucker's chin. Then, the wet smear of goo on my uniform's knees.
"Gees, Tuck. What the fuck is this shit? Stand up and turn around so that I can see your ass," I demanded.
"Can't you keep your pants on, Darlene? We're in public," he chided, but did what he was told.
Good boy.
"Wow, Tucker, your ass is covered in brown goop."
I checked the bottoms of my shoes, which were caked in the same mess. No wonder we were slipping and falling like the Zamboni had just made its rounds. Not being a hunter like Tucker was, I was clueless.
He started chuckling softly until it turned into full-bellied guffaws. When he caught his breath, he announced, "I've just solved the case, Darlene. Remember when you mentioned Santa getting lost on his way home? I think he lost a reindeer because we've been chasing a god-damned deer through a school all night. It was shitting as it ran, and that's what we were slipping on and landing in!"
"Gross- ew! It's all over me and my uniform. Does it wash out? Can we get new ones? I may puke. EWW! Did it get in my hair? Shit, motherfucker, god-damn fucking Rudolph."
"That's what I love about you, Darlene," Tucker joked, "You are such a lady."
About the Creator
Tina D'Angelo
I am a 70-year-old grandmother, who began my writing career in 2022. Since then I have published 6 books, all available on Barnes and Noble or Amazon.
BARE HUNTER, SAVE ONE BULLET, G-IS FOR STRING, AND G-IS FOR STRING: OH, CANADA
Comments (3)
Those cops need new flashlights and new noses. Funny story, Tina!
Ewwwww hahahahahahahhahaha! That's sooooo gross!!! I so wasn't expecting that! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
Now this is why I love the holidays... Excellent story!