“Good morning!” firefighter, Roy DeSoto, greeted his paramedic partner, John Gage, as he came strolling into Station 51’s locker room in his street clothes. “…or not,” he quietly tacked on, when his glum-faced friend all but ignored him.
A mumbled—er, grumbled, “Morning,” was all Gage was willing—or able—to muster up at the moment. He opened his locker and then took a seat inside it.
Noting that his seated associate was obviously in some sort of a ‘funk’, DeSoto quickly finished donning his uniform and then wisely fled from the room.
“Aren’t you going to ask how my date with Cheri went?” a uniformed Gage prompted, once he’d caught back up with his evasive partner, out in the parking bay five minutes later.
“Nope!” Roy replied, and kept right on adding to his growing list of needed medical supplies. He’d learned to stop asking long ago, in the hope that, if he didn’t ask, his friend wouldn’t tell, because if his bachelor buddy’s date had gone well, he was insufferable. If the date had gone badly, he was still insufferable. Either way, Roy really didn’t wanna hear it.
“Why not?” John wondered, his scowl deepening.
The senior paramedic paused in his list compiling. “Because the answer to that particular question is written all over your frowning face. That’s why not.”
“Maybe so,” Gage was forced to concede. The paramedic pointed to his pouting lips. “But this is just an ‘overview’. You don’t know any of the horrendous ‘details’, yet.”
‘Yeah. And I’d like to keep it that way,’ DeSoto silently realized. The paramedic pocketed his pen and notebook and left to seek refuge in the dayroom.
His moping shiftmate shadowed right along.
Roy poured himself a cup of coffee, pulled a chair out from the table and plopped down upon it.
Johnny did likewise. “I thought she was real sweet. Turns out, she’s a nothing but a snob. Spent half the night talking about how her last boyfriend took her to the French Riviera. Like I wanted to hear about her rolling around on some beach all night—with another guy!”
‘Believe me. I know the feeling,’ Roy silently assured him. The paramedic picked himself and his coffee cup up and stepped over into the rec’ area, where he pretended to be grossly absorbed in their Captain’s latest postings to their bulletin board.
But again, his miffed amigo followed right along. “Then, we get back to her place, right? And she introduces me to her roommate, Melody. Ma-an! That woman was unbelievable! She just would not leave me alone! Kept circling me—the entire evening! Like she was some sort a’ vulture and I was this prize piece of carrion. Yah know?”
‘Boy! Do I ever!’ Roy morbidly mused.
Their crewmate, Chet Kelly, had sauntered into the kitchen and was in the process of pouring himself a cup of coffee. Upon hearing John’s latest statement, his mustached face scrunched up a might. “Interesting comparison, Gage. Not that you don’t look like buzzard bait…” he added and flashed Roy a wry smile.
DeSoto couldn’t help but grin.
Gage groaned and gave the interrupter an icy glare. “Look, do you mind? This is a private conversation.”
“Oh yeah?” Kelly quickly came back. “I always thought it took two people to carry on a conversation…and, if it’s so ‘private’, then how come we could hear you from clear on over in the locker room?” He gave John Gage’s silent, long-suffering friend a deeply sympathetic glance. “You should just do what I do, and tell him to shut his yap.”
If he thought that approach had the slightest chance of working, Roy would have been sorely tempted to give it try sometime.
Just as Johnny was about to make a witty comeback to his tormentor, their Captain poked his head into the room.
“Would you care to join us for Roll Call, gentlemen,” Hank Stanley ordered more than asked.
“Sure thing, Cap!” Roy eagerly—er, gratefully responded.
Johnny closed his gaping jaws and followed his grinning shiftmates out into the garage. “I’ll have to tell you the rest, later.”
‘You don’t have to,’ Roy silently corrected him. ‘But you will…’ the fireman finished with a weary sigh.
No doubt about it, DeSoto was definitely going to have to rethink his ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.
The End
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May Picture 2010 Stories by Ross
