Who Has Been Sitting in My Police Car

Sep 292014

Despite the precipitation that was poured out on to the earth’s flank, somewhere and somehow, a gleam of sunlight had been appointed my personal redeemer on that damp February afternoon. Had I not felt its warmth, the consequences may have proven quite costly.

This day had been preordained as the deadline, by which I was to submit to having my fingers ink blotted for employment purposes. Concessions were not possible on this point, for it remained critical that I maintain a consistent schedule of work related compensation. Any deviations from such a timetable would have subjected my survival mechanisms to trial that was not yet ready to be braved.

Dutifully, I had arranged to meet a detective from the local police department, as a means to resolve this nagging matter. Subsequent to my prompt arrival at police headquarters, this detective administered the examination in a pleasant and professional manner.

I departed from the police station with a sense of accomplishment, relieved that at last I had attended to this annoying bit of business. However, I soon found myself sparring with a sudden fatigue that had crept into my body. Primarily, I believe this fatigue was the result of having been subjected to tedious cleansing ritual that was pivotal in the removal of the ink stains from the tips of my fingers.

Luckily, in a moment, I was able to flop down on the seat of the car and begin to make preparations for the drive home. Suddenly, pursuant to an instant of pensive study directed at my immediate surroundings, I became painfully aware that that I was not occupying a vehicle that belonged to me. Before I could eject myself from the cockpit, my eyes focused on a sign that caused my body to quiver with panic. In short, the sign indicated that that this particular parking space was reserved for the private use of the Chief of Police.

Hastily, I retreated from this heavy piece of machinery. Upon my successful evacuation, I surveyed the premises and concluded that it was possible that my inadvertent mishap had gone undetected. Unfortunately, I had no assurances that my supposition was correct. Therefore, quietly, I skulked back to the car, which bore my true ownership and once again prepared to depart for the sanctuary of my home.

Now the theme of this extended journey was tainted with caution and uncertainty. Accordingly, I kept a pace that was both slow and careful. Fully expecting to see the bright flashing lights that would signal my demise, I fixed a steady stare upon the rear view mirror. However, no such illumination penetrated the atmosphere. Soon I reached home, but not even the reassuring and comforts of my nest could relieve my anxious and unsettling condition. For days, I was haunted by the disturbing premonition that my doorbell would toll and I would be violently seized and imprisoned in a world of iron bars and gloom. Fortunately, my insights into the future proved to be far short of the astuteness that some would associate with the Old Testament prophets or even Nostradamus.

In a week’s time, my paranoia gave way to an increasing confidence that I would remain a free man. With the passing of a few more weeks, it was revealed that the test which had set forth this sequence of events ultimately yielded the result necessary for the continuation of my employment. As the sun lit and warmed the day, I realized more fully that I was happy man.

Originally published on Associated Content / Yahoo Contributor Network (YCN) on March 31, 2009