"Just Mopping Up"
By Ross
Firefighter, John Gage, was working beside his paramedic partner, Roy DeSoto, in the parking bay of Los Angeles County's Fire Station 51.
Both men were busy cleaning the garage's soiled cement floor.
John had just finished rinsing and wringing. He hoisted the heavy cotton deck mop up out of the galvanized metal tub's wringer and then paused to study the wet concrete in front of his feet. "Yah know, I think the floor is actually getting dirtier. Maybe we should change the water..."
DeSoto glanced back. They were almost to the rec' room doorway. "We only have a few more feet to go. We might as well finish."
Gage gazed disgustedly down at his filthy floor mop. "Hard to believe this thing was actually white, a mere fifteen minutes ago. Now it's sort a' the same color as Mrs. Pennington's wig."
"How do you know that wasn't her real hair?"
"Because it became...dislodged...in the back of the ambulance, while I was inserting an airway. I had a heck of a time getting it...resituated."
DeSoto flashed the unwilling hair-stylist a sympathetic smile.
Suddenly, the garage door began grinding its way up, announcing the return of Station 51's Engine Crew.
"Perfect timing!" DeSoto determined and gave the garage floor a final swipe.
Gage watched Stoker back Big Red into its parking spot. "Wow! You guys have been gone quite a while," he realized, following a quick glance at his wristwatch. "What have you been doing all this time?"
"The same thing you've been doing," Captain Hank Stanley calmly replied, as he came around the front of the firetruck. "Mopping up." Hank couldn't help but notice that the cleaned garage was half empty. "Where's the Squad?"
"Seems C-Shift is still tied up at that brushfire in Messina Canyon," Roy informed him.
Marco Lopez exchanged 'looks' with his fellow lineman, Chet Kelly. "So, while we've been out working, you guys have been just sitting around here all morning?"
The paramedics exchanged 'looks' of their own.
"We, uh, managed to keep busy," Gage grossly understated, prompting an eye roll from his partner.
Chet eyed the dark-haired paramedic—and his mop—for a few moments. Then he turned back to Marco and taunted, "Well, what d'yah know! Gage finally found a dance partner skinnier than he is."
"Feel free to 'cut in'," John shot back and chased Chet into the dayroom with the filthy end of his floor mop.
The rest of the firemen followed them into the rec' room/dining area, en route to the Station's coffee pot.
Since Engine 51 had been called out before morning roll could be completed, Hank still hadn't handed out the Station's work assignments. "Gage, see about getting some grub—" Hank paused, right in mid-command.
Lunch was already laid out for them, right there on the kitchen table.
The Captain turned to his paramedics, looking duly impressed.
The pair pretended not to notice.
Stanley couldn't help but grin. "Gentlemen, let's get washed up and eat. And after lunch, we can start with the chores. Mike, you get the dorm. Marco, the dayroom. Chet, the latrine. Roy, you and John get to work on the log."
"Done. Done. Done. And done," DeSoto triumphantly declared. "Everything's already been done, Cap...with the exception of hanging hose."
"We'd a' done that, too," Gage announced. "But you guys took off with the hose."
The Captain exchanged amazed glances with his engine crew. "I, uh, guess you have been 'keeping busy'..."
"Just mopping up a little," Roy casually remarked.
Hank and his men rolled their eyes and started heading for the washroom.
DeSoto and his 'mopping' partner swapped a couple of wry, sly smiles, and then followed their friends out into the garage—er, the clean garage.
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December Picture 2009 Stories by Ross
