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Stories from the small town of Whisper Gap where one life, one tale invariably reaches out to touch the next. by Jo Janoski.
Patty, the operator, transferred the call in order to stir the bomb squad into action. Next, she leaned back and let out a humongous sigh, the kind that runs out first like a gentle tributary, before next building volume to gush out like a raging flood. "What's with you?" Dan who sat across from her removed his headset, a bemused expression taking over his face. "It looks like we're not gonna get out of here anytime soon. That's what!" It was true. Patty knew the little police station was short-staffed, and the next shift would already be preempted to make calls and arrangements to handle the crisis. Dan loosened his collar and sat back. "Oh,
no! What happened?" "Suspicious package at Fourth and
Main." "We're toast!" He looked at her
with a hungry glare. They had a date for tonight. At his place.
And he really, really wanted to get the lovely, sexy Patty to
his place. Alone. Just the two of them. He studied her rounded
breasts and pursed red lips, and sighed. She returned his gaze with a bleak expression,
knowing full well what she was missing. Meanwhile, back at Fourth and Main, Mildred
hovered like a mother hen, taking charge, pushing people back
out of the way so the police could do their work. "Is that Mildred over there! Oh brother!
It's bad enough she bosses us at the office. Now the whole town
is under her command!" Amanda Pierce guffawed and looked
to her companion, Betty. The two worked as clerks under Mildred's
stringent supervision. "Unbelievable!" Betty said the
word extra slow for emphasis. But a part of her heart fretted
over Mildred, who lost her husband last year to cancer. Since
then, Mildred seemed preoccupied, fidgety. "Everybody! Back off!" Detective
Jones nodded to his uniformed staff to get the people out. But
the crowd didn't want to disperse. Even in the face of grave
danger, curiosity grits its teeth and takes a stand. Mildred
shooed them out better than any of the officers. But the obstinate
throng kept creeping back like the tide, continually tickling
the shore with its watery claws before withdrawing again. Detective Jones got to work, his rugged
chin set, ready for action. The next step was to start the robot,
fondly dubbed "Ralph" into motion. The machine, brought
in on a forklift, was ready and blinking a cautioning red "eye"
before Detectives Jones sent it on its way. As the machine wheeled
to the brown bag, the whirring of its gears was the only sound,
since traffic was far away and the crowd speechless. The hypnotic
hum mesmerized those souls who watched and listened. "Ralph" circled the package twice
before clicking and whirring to gather x-ray data, red lights
blinking in unison with yellow. Then the robot stopped, turned,
and with a satisfied beep wheeled its way back to the police
officers. Soon they huddled over the x-rays, murmuring amongst
themselves until finally Detective Jones stood and addressed
the crowd. "The results are inconclusive,"
he said. He turned and nodded to Chief Brooster of the fire department.
"Bring in the hoses!" They came, struggling with the heavy equipment
which dragged behind them like bulging, obstinate boa constrictors.
When the water blasted out, onlookers ran for cover, so mighty
and forceful was the stream. It pounded like angry fists on the
brown paper bag, soaking through before blasting the contents
into the air. Chards of Styrofoam flew up followed by, of all
things, noodles flip-flopping, all of it drenched by pulsating,
yellow chicken broth jetting upward like a fountain. "It's chicken soup!" Detective
Jones remarked. Licking a noodle off his finger which had landed
on his head before he retrieved it. "Damn chicken soup!" "Chicken soup!" Betty said to
Amanda. "Did you hear that? Chicken Soup? Mildred, did you
hear that? Chicken soup?" Back at the dispatcher's office, Patty
and Dan heard the news and were equally amazed. "Chicken
soup, if that don't beat all," Dan commented, his blue eyes
resting on Patty. That girl smiled in return, a cute little twinkle
in her gaze. "Chicken soup..." she added,
nodding her head. They all knew where the soup had come from,
Joe's Deli, over at Third and Main. And that's where they all
headed -- Patty, Dan, Mildred, Amanda, Betty, Detective Jones,
everyone. It was the most natural reaction. I mean, that's what
people do in a little town like Whisper Gap, meet for soup at
Joe's Deli -- no matter what their differences, they come together
at Joe's. Because he makes the best chicken soup in the universe.
Why anyone would abandon their chicken soup from Joe's at the
corner of Fourth and Main is a mystery. Must have been a stranger
in town. It's too bad he couldn't join them for lunch. Jo Janoski is a poet, author, and photographer from Pittsburgh, PA. Send Jo a message either directly or using
the Word Catalyst feedback form. For more from Jo visit the
Word Catalyst archives or her online
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