Sergeant McGuiness was not nearly as much of a hard-ass as he first appeared to be. Or at least that’s what he wanted me to believe. He dismissed the chorus of flippant healthcare aficionados before sending his understudy out on an apparently frivolous task.
“Rollins, coffee," McGuiness said and Detective Rollins scampered off as if he was shot from a circus cannon, obviously trying to garner the respect and affection of his more seasoned colleague.
“You comfortable?” McGuinness asked me, trying to play the role of a good cop who cared.
“I’ve seen better days.”
“If I take off these restraints, you promise you won't try to escape?”
“I’m not a violent man.” I responded. Attack him. It’s your only way out. “Are you sure?” I mumbled under my breath to my narrator.
“What’s that?” McGuiness asked while removing the second of my restraints. Yes, do it now. He’ll never see it coming. The problem with flawed ideas is that they often lead to unpleasant circumstances. I quickly unbuckled his holster and snatched his gun.
“What are you doing!?" McGuiness said, as betrayed as he was shocked. "You said you wouldn’t do that!”
“Get back or I'll shoot.” You should take acting lessons. That wasn’t very convincing.
“You aren’t a violent man," he said backing up slowly. "I'm just here to ask you a few questions. Don't make this more serious than it has to be."
He’s stalling. You have to move quickly. “You’re stalling. I have to move quickly.”
“Just how far do you think you’re going to get in that getup?”
“Good point. Give me your pants.” Shirt too. “And the shirt.”
“Is it just me or does this seem familiar?” McGuiness asked, as I forced him into the restraints.
“You’re right," I responded. "Like something out of a movie.”
I had a sudden suspicion that my narrator was running amuck with my life, attempting to recreate his favorite scenes from the silver screen. I represented the unwitting pawn, the lovable every-man, the unshakeable hero who rises against even the worst of odds. That’s preposterous, you an unshakeable hero.
“Listen, Sergeant. I know this sounds crazy," I said. "But I’m searching for the same answers you are. When I find them I'll get back to you."
“If you take a step out that door," he said. "I can no longer help you. I'll track you down and you'll spend the rest of your foreseeable life behind bars. You don’t want this; I don’t want this. Give me my firearm and we'll get to the bottom of this together."
"Sorry, Sergeant. I'm a solo act."
The Ray ban sunglasses completed the illusion perfectly. I snuck behind Detective Rollins who was still pumping quarters into the vending machine, probably wondering which flavor coffee his superior preferred.
"Interrogate the suspect. See what you can find out," I ordered, sounding just like Sergeant Thompson Johnson McGuiness. I have always been great at impersonations. I guess if you're life is boring enough you have to invent ways to entertain yourself. "I have to make a phone call."
“Right away, sir.” Rollins said, turning around in time to see my backside as I walked out the door to the stairwell. "Hey, where are you going!?" he shouted. "Don't you want your coffee?"