Black-teeth
started to say something as he took a deliberate step meant as an intimidating
threat toward his newest victim; whatever the dimwit intended to say never
reached his greasy, thin lips for audible-pronouncement. What emanated from his
mouth was a surprised “Ugh!”
In
a three-second blur, rotten-teeth found himself lying on his backside with
Gramps towering over him. His hand had slipped from the pocket and an object
lay harmlessly beside it; the brass-knuckle weapon had made an audible “solid”-thunk as it had hit the pavement. The
would-be thief’s head buzzed and the suddenly incapacitated “wanna-be” thug
blinked his dark eyes rapidly, trying to discern what had just happened to ruin
his “perfect shake-down” scheme.
His
smashed nose bled profusely; his absent teeth left a vacant, black hole; his
right foot lay askew; his leg hurt like nothing he had ever felt before. Gramps
thought the “baby” might cry.
Toothless
shook his head in disbelief at the rapid turn of events. “Who are you? Mister!?”
“Veteran!
U.S.M.C.! Viet Nam! 1967! Son!” He smiled. “And---you can call me…’Sir!’”
A
mounted policeman approached. “Everything all right here? Sir?” He inquired.
“The
old man assaulted me! I want him arrested!” No-teeth
grumbled in a slur, not yet accustomed to the sound of his words now that he
lacked teeth. “He broke my leg! I need help!”
Ignoring
the complainant, the officer smiled, looking at Gramps. “Are you alright? Sir.”
“Yes!”
Thank you! Officer.”
Then,
with a hint of a smirk while pointing at the pile of useless-refuse
unceremoniously sprawled on the concrete-walkway, Gramps said, “But, I’m pretty
sure he ain’t so good!”
“I’ll
call an ambulance---” The mounted policeman advised. “After…I get your
information.
“I
heard part of your---uh…conversation.” The patrolman smiled.
Then,
he sat straight and saluted the old man. “Thank you! For your service. Sir!”
Gramps
returned the “honored” salute with respectful military precision.
The
policeman nodded. “Afghanistan.” He allowed. “2012!”
Each
veteran smiled a common “understanding”-of-comradery among fellow-warriors.
Gramps
gave the officer his contact information and a brief synopsis of the short
altercation; the policeman took down the information for his report. Once the
perpetrator had been removed by ambulance, the officer said he would interview
the lady on the far bench, a local known to him; he added that the unsuccessful
thug had a record and this time, he hoped, a judge would send him where he
belonged. “All I can do is bring them in, Sir. The rest is up to the courts.”
Being
dismissed, Gramps shook the officer’s hand.
“You
might be called to testify.” The policeman apologized.
“Be
more than happy to accommodate, Officer.” Gramps offered.
Gathering
Chelsea, they headed home stopping at the ice cream shop just down the block
from their apartment for a sweet, cooling delight. Mom would be home soon; time
to get supper.
In all the world
are: Heroes!---myriad Saints!...a plethora-of-Angels!
God-bless
them!
Each and every one!
Amen!
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