By Audrey W.
“C’mon, Roy, It’s a win-win deal.”
“I don’t know. I still need to give it some thought.”
As the two paramedics walked into the dayroom for the beginning of their latest shift at Station 51, John Gage frowned at his partner Roy DeSoto's resistance to his latest idea for them to make some extra money. A booth at a local flea market. He thought surely the two of them could come up with plenty of stuff to sell on a monthly basis, including pottery Roy made at home as a hobby.
As they made their way inside the room, John did a double take at the crewmember standing by the closed refrigerator.
“What__have you__ got on?”
Chet Kelly shrugged. “Glasses.”
“I know what they are! But the question is why?”
“Just one more demonstration of why I’m always two steps ahead of you,” he said with a sigh.
“Two steps--!” John cut himself off and screwed up his face as he gave Roy a look of total bafflement. He then returned his attention to the other. “Chet, you aren’t even a halfa step ahead of me most of the time, let alone two!”
“How many water bombs have I gotten you with that you never saw coming?”
Gage rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, ya got me on that,” he unhappily admitted. “But it still doesn’t explain the glasses.”
He glanced at Roy again, hoping to get him in on the questioning. But as usual, DeSoto was wearing a smirk and quietly waiting for the two crewmen to work their conversation out.
“Craig Brice,” Chet finally offered.
Again, John screwed up his face, only this time he kept his attention on the mustached fireman.
“Brice?” He questioned, once he found his voice again. “What the hell does you wearing glasses have to do with Craig Brice?”
But before Chet could answer, John went on with, “Wait.” A grin slowly grew across his face. “I get it. This is just another of those steps ahead of me things you were talkin’ about. You jus’ wanna get me goin’.”
“As usual, you’re wrong, Gage,” Chet said as he headed for the leather couch across the room. He took a seat and faced the paramedics with a smile. “You know the saying, ‘people always look smarter in glasses’. Well, I got to thinking. . .and some of the smartest people I know wear glasses. Brice is probably the smartest I’ve ever met. So I figured, it couldn’t hurt to wear ‘um and see if it got me more respect. More attention from the girls. So I got some non-prescription glasses just for looks.”
“Chet, for one thing, it’s gonna take a lot more than glasses to impress a chic with your knowledge,” John kidded with a snorted laugh. “And for your information, Brice isn’t the smartest guy you’ve ever met. Roy here,” he said, indicating his partner, “who doesn’t wear glasses, out-smarted Brice and left the guy completely flustered when he brought up a key point about Robert’s Rules of Order at that paramedic meeting we had awhile back. Brice was without a single coherent thought, all thanks ta Roy,” he added with a crooked grin while he gave DeSoto a pat on the back. He then rested his right hand on Roy’s shoulder as he added, “As for gettin’ the girl? Which one is happily married and which one doesn’t have a steady girlfriend? And before ya say it, I don't mean between me an' Roy. . .”
Chet looked at the two men a moment before taking off his glasses. He stood up and walked over to the waste basket at the end of the couch, then deposited the item in the can.
As he wandered past the two men toward the doorway that led to the apparatus bay, he mumbled, “Way to ruin a great idea, John.”
The paramedics turned to watch him exit the room, then traded grins.
“Now that was a win. In terms of water bombs, I’d say you drenched him.”
Gage gave a nod, a lopsided grin still on his face. “An’he never saw it coming. Two steps ahead of me,” he said with a hand splayed on his chest. “Ha!”
Just an idea I wanted to play with. :o)
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