6 of 27

Write now Article Tools

It Went Down Like This

I was performing my usual duties, file the records of the accused, sign people in, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. The usual boring things I have to do everyday. But I would never quit my job, no. On the contrary, I love to work here everyday. By now you're probably wondering where in the world could I possibly work that could be so boring but so entertaining. Well, I'll tell you. I work in the police station down on Wade Hollow as a secretary. The reason I like it so much is because of all the stories I hear. Most people would hate working in the police station because of the gruesome stories, but being a three policeman and one secretary station made out of cardboard and plastic, it's not so bad. I'm being quite literal, it gets very cold "inside" when it's snowing out. And you can just forget about blizzards. As I was saying, I was doing my usual boring things, on a very hot summer's day, and he walked in, again. Jeffrey is a lean and mean teenager with an attitude problem, the small town kind of attitude problem, not the kind where parents try to kill him because they can't take it anymore. He usually got into trouble alone, but on occasion his best friend Bubba would be in the mess too. But this time when he walked in, he wasn't alone and Bubba wasn't with him. Officer Tibbs, the guy who works the first shift of the day, sat them both down on the floor and asked first for Jeffrey's story and then the other kid's. I studied the new boy; his long thin legs sprawled out before him, almost tripping the officer. He was slumped down, not caring for his improper posture or the way he presented himself, all the while studying his folded hands. Even though seeing Jeffrey is a daily thing, the way he acted today was not. On normal days, like yesterday, he usually butts in when he can to exclaim loudly his side of the story or to say that he didn't do it. He usually wore blank over sized shirts, normal Levi jeans, and his hair has never been spiked or multicolored, his mother would kill him, for spiked hair he would get in trouble, for breaking into the toy store to go Christmas shopping, not a big deal. There was something fishy going on. I continued to watch him, though he never looked up to smile or wink at me. He just looked at a point somewhere behind the Officer's left shoulder and sat there.

"Sandra," Tibbs said to me, waking me from my thoughts, "please right down this information. Two boys, Jeffrey Siffle, age 16 and Brian Becker, age

• 1
• 2
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: Police?
We want to hear your view. Write now!