“‘Clunk’”

By Ross

Roy DeSoto stepped out of Station 51’s locker room and into the garage.  The fireman made it to about the midway point in the apparatus bay, and then halted.

A pair of legs was protruding out from under the passenger’s side of their rescue squad, directly in front of the truck’s rear tire.  

The puzzled paramedic promptly changed his course and went sauntering over to them.  “What are you doing under there?”

John Gage rolled out from under the truck.  He had an annoyed look on his grease-smeared face, and an adjustable wrench in each of his greasy hands.  “I told you.  I heard a ‘clunk’.”

‘Ahhh…yes.  The phantom ‘clunk’.’

“Sounded just like the sort a’ ‘clunk’ a universal joint makes—just before it goes.”  His interrupted partner completed his explanation and rolled back out of sight.

Roy suppressed a smile and his right eyebrow arched in thought. “The universal joint, huh? We should probably give Charley a call.”

His partner came rolling back out.  “We can’t call Charley.”

“Why not?  He’s the Department’s mechanic.  If we can’t call him, who else can we call?”

“Ro-oy, if we call Charley, he’s gonna wanna know why we broke ‘his’ precious squad.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. Universal joints wear out all the time.”

“You know that and I know that.  But good ole Charley’ll find a way to blame us for it, anyway,” Gage glumly determined and disappeared under the truck again.

There followed a great deal of  ‘clunk’ing and ‘clank’ing.

Roy could no longer contain his curiosity.  “So-o…Is there a lot a’ play in the universal joint?”

“It’s not the U-joint,” John announced, as he came sliding out from under the truck, for the third time in as many minutes.

DeSoto flashed his floored friend a slightly amused look.  “That ‘clunk’ you heard was prob’ly just the sound of your ‘train of thought’…derailing.”

Gage gave his buddy back a ‘ha ha very funny glare’.  “Remember that overgrown pasture we plowed through, on that last call?”

Roy managed a thoughtful nod.

“Well, we now have a big hunk a’ barbed wire wrapped around our drive-shaft."

"Barb wire?" 'Chet'll prob'ly want a chunk for his collection...'

"Since you’re already standing, kin you fetch me a pair a’ wire cutters?”

“Sure.” DeSoto did an about face and headed off in the direction of their tool cart. ‘So-o, there really was a ‘clunk’.  Who’d a’ thunk?’

The End

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February Picture 2010            Stories By Ross