The One You Least Expect

He tightened the bolts that would hold the contraption to the wooden shelf. He tucked the small wrench in his front pants pocket as he checked the set trap. Satisfied all was properly in place, he picked up the drinking glass and carefully dumped the contents into the metal cup of the miniature catapult. As he carefully closed the cabinet door, he quickly scanned the room to make sure he was, indeed, alone. The only other living creature in attendance was the station’s mascot, Henry, and the basset had never been known to betray a secret.

Pleased with his handiwork, he brushed imaginary dirt from his hands as he strolled casually from the dayroom.

With no station chores that needed to be done immediately following roll call, the half dozen firefighters who made up Station 51’s A-shift headed into the dayroom for a quick cup of wake-up coffee. Roy and Mike snagged two of the mugs remaining on the counter. They quickly claimed their share of the eye-opening beverage as Chet headed over to the couch to greet Henry. Marco stood by the sink; Hank picked up the newspaper and read the headline as he awaited his chance at the coffeepot.

Johnny picked up the third and final mug sitting on the counter and poured himself some coffee. Just as he put the pot back, Chet said, “Hey, Gage, get me some, will ya, pal?”

Seeing Chet was practically buried under Henry’s lazy bulk, the paramedic decided to indulge his shiftmate. He reached up and opened the cupboard where the coffee cups were stored. There was a sprong! and, before he knew what was happening, Johnny was hit in the face with a water bomb.

That was too perfect! I couldn’t have done better if I’d planned it to happen that way! With the Phantom himself asking Johnny to open the cupboard, it’ll look like he’s at fault!

Johnny turned; his crewmates could see the water dripping from his hair and face as well as the large wet spot slowly spreading down the front of his blue uniform shirt. There came a snort from Stoker’s direction as he tried not to choke on the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken. Amused smiles crossed the faces of the others, with a snicker or two thrown in for good measure.

Johnny glared across the room. “Starting a little early this morning, aren’t you, Chet?”

“Aw, how I wish I could take credit for that one, Gage. Alas, it wasn’t my idea,” the Irish firefighter lamented regretfully.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“I don’t know. It’s the truth!”

“Come on, Chet,” Marco stated, “joke’s over, so ’fess up.”

Can’t ‘fess up if it wasn’t his doing.

“I’m tellin’ you guys, I didn’t do it this time! I swear!”

Roy sipped his coffee before remarking diplomatically, “Okay, you didn’t do it, but the Phantom—“

“The Phantom is innocent of this one, Roy, I promise you.” Chet seemed to be getting frustrated that nobody would believe him. Being known as the resident prankster was now backfiring on him.

The Phantom, innocent? There’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one!

“You seem pretty sincere about that, pal,” Hank observed as he gently tossed the newspaper back on the table. He walked over to the counter and, careful not to touch the still dripping paramedic, reached into the cupboard to extract a clean mug.

“I am sincere about it, Cap! You know the Phantom takes his responsibilities seriously. He’d admit to such a well-crafted scheme.”

“Maybe it was C-shift,” Mike suggested.

Maybe, but not this time.

“Well, no matter who’s responsible, it’s still your turn to clean the kitchen today, Kelly,” Hank stated as he poured himself some java. He gestured to the wet floor. “You can start right here.” Seeing Johnny starting to smirk at his fellow firefighter, he ordered, “And for cryin’ out loud, Gage, change into a dry shirt.”

“Yes, sir,” Johnny acquiesced. He quickly placed his mug on the table before heading for the locker room.

Hank glanced at the rest of his crew. “Have your coffee, then get to work.” He spoke in a normal tone of voice that told his men he wasn’t angry about the morning’s misdeed, but fun was fun and now it was time to do the jobs they got paid to do. He nodded at their chorus of agreements, then left the room to start on his own work.

An hour or so later, Roy rummaged through the toolbox for a particular wrench. Unable to locate it, he questioned his crewmates to the tool’s whereabouts, but to no avail. He stepped around the squad and into the captain’s office.

“Hey, Cap, have you seen…” DeSoto paused in the doorway. Hank looked up from his paperwork, but the paramedic’s gaze was focused on what lay on the lanky captain’s desk: a wrench and a small handful of nuts and bolts.

“Help you, Roy?” came the casual question.

“Um, yeah,” Roy pulled his gaze up to meet Stanley’s eyes, “can I have— are you finished with that?” He pointed to the wrench.

Hank picked up the tool and held it out. “Oh, yeah, sure, I’m finished.” As his senior paramedic relieved him of the wrench, the straight-faced captain arched his eyebrows in silent challenge: I dare you to say something. Anything.

Roy took the tool. “Um, thanks, Cap.”

“No trouble,” Hank assured him, dark eyes now twinkling with mischief.

DeSoto nodded before turning back to the apparatus bay. As he walked back to the squad, he shook his head and muttered, “It’s always the one you least expect.”

4/1/2002

And how many of you thought it was Mike? Hmmmm? J