Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry

Chapter 1

As the first and only detectives on the scene, Mary Nighthorse and her partner Larry Davis are discussing what to do with the situation, since they're in charge, at least until someone of higher rank gets here, which could take forever at this hour of night. Larry smiles at her, What's do the uni's say about the situation, Mary? Larry is leaning against the trunk of their issue car where they keep their extra vests and armament.

Mary gives him the rundown, as she knows it from the four uniformed officers on the scene. The perp is inside this convenience store, holding the female manager hostage, with a gun to her head. He's demanding a car and a path cleared out of here. That's not going to happen, we would never do that, as you well know.

We could let him think so, I have an idea.

Knowing you, it'll be totally bizarre, but will probably work.

Minutes later, Larry drives up near the door of the convenience store that most cops call stop n' robs due to so many late-night robberies. He gets out of the car, dangling keys from his hand, holding them out in front of him. He's acting quite nonchalant, even though he's only wearing a jockstrap, with his Sig-Sauer in forty Smith caliber tucked in the waistband, right at his oh so cute butt cheeks. The perp is looking at him with obvious astonishment on his face. Hey, here's your car. I'm unarmed as you can see, come get it, but leave the woman behind.

The perp hollers back, No dice, the second I let her go, one of these cops will shoot me.

I'll tell them to back off, will that suit you?

Do it.

Larry signals with his hand, the measly four uniformed officers that responded to the alarm get in their cars, then back away, as prearranged. Larry is being careful to only let the perp see him from the front. Larry jangles the keys out in front of him, Okay, you want the car, leave the woman behind.

No, you can have her as soon as I'm in the car with the keys.

All right, come on out.

The perp keeps the woman in front of him, pushing her along, through the doors. When he has to reach for the keys, he has a decision to make, let the woman go, or put the pistol in his belt, just as Larry planned. A fairly smart perp, as perps go, he pushes the woman at Larry, snags the keys, then attempts to get in the car, it's locked, and the keys don't fit it. Larry pushes the woman down as the tricked perp swings his gun around. Larry pulls his pistol, but before he can fire, he hears what sounds like a cannon's roar. The perp suddenly has a big round hole in the middle of his forehead. He goes down in a heap.

Larry looks, the perp has a gaping hole in the back of his head now. Turning his head toward Mary off to the side, he says, Nice shooting, as usual, Mary. I'll bet there will be hell to pay with IA over this one, as usual, but it should be all right.

Yeah, he was turning his gun on you, so I had every right to shoot him. They might really give you problems over you prancing up here in just your jock strap, but it should be called a good shoot.

Maybe, but it worked. He was much more shocked and off guard than any other way.

I still don't like you facing down armed perps with no vest … or anything else on.

One time deal, once word gets out, it'll never work again.

Go get dressed, before the brass gets here.

What, you don't like seeing me in nearly nothing?

That's not the question, the brass sure as hell won't.

I suppose you're right about that, if and when any deem it worth their precious donut time to show up.

The brass, such as it is this time of night, finally shows up about two hours later, a lowly lieutenant is all they saw fit to send. The lieutenant goes through the motions, but doesn't really seem to give a damn that a life was saved, or how it was saved. Another convenience store robbery, and one less robber, apparently isn't too high on his list of priorities. The lieutenant just takes down the minimum of facts for his report. Mary and Larry don't give him any details he doesn't ask for. They don't lie to him, but answer his few questions as simply, without adding any unbidden details, they've learned their lesson about that. He leaves the scene without admonishing them about the IA investigation that's always done when there is an officer involved shooting. Mary and Larry know the ropes of that BS, so he doesn't waste his precious donut time.

Chapter 2

The IA board didn't do much investigating, the only witnesses to the actual shooting are the lady they saved, and themselves, so they skate through that fairly easily, for once. The fact that the downed perp had an arrest record a mile long had a lot to do with that. Nobody is crying over that piece of trash. The worst part of the hearing is that they had to come in for it on one of their rare days … actually the day of their night off. Getting up early is always a bitch for them, having been on the night shift for many months now. So far, nobody at work has caught on to the fact that they're lovers, or if they have, they haven't pressed the issue. The rank and file doesn't give a damn, but the brass frowns on it highly. Of course, the brass here in Seattle, Washington, seems to frown on everything.

Free for the rest of the day and the night, they go back to Mary's apartment. They take turns spending nights … days actually in their case, at each other's apartments. Since they're in the same building, just a floor apart, it's a logical reason for them to show up together everywhere they go that's job related.

Larry sits down on the only chair in her daintily furnished place that he's not afraid to sit on, an old recliner that once belonged to Mary's father. The dainty furniture doesn't really fit Mary, it's all hand me downs from her mother or grandmother … Larry isn't sure which, maybe both.

Mary sits on his lap, then gives him a kiss. When the long, passionate kiss is complete, Larry uses a tone that's more than a whisper, but not all that loud, it's his important business tone, Hold that thought, I want to talk to you about something serious.

Mary wiggles her butt on his lap, I am serious about it.

I mean really serious. I'm tired of being a cop. At least, I'm tired of being a cop in this town, with all the red tape and so forth. There's no good reason a perp with a record as long as that rat we put down the other night should've even been on the street. I'm fed up with that shit.

Mary gives him a look that he knows means she doesn't want to talk about it. We can discuss that later, I'm horny now.

Larry grins, When aren't you. I'm thinking the guys don't call you Dirty Mary because of that big pistol you tote.

Mary smiles back, Only with you, baby, no other man has ever done me like you do. Now, do we go to the bedroom or do we do it right here again?

I really want to discuss this.

I'm beginning to think the guys call you Crazy Larry for more reasons than your antics during takedowns. Any man that would rather talk than ravish this gorgeous body must be crazy.

Larry appraises her tight, well-toned body lovingly. I didn't say I don't want to, but I know us, if we don't talk about this beforehand, we won't talk about it at all.

Yeah, you're right about that. Just a minute.

Mary hops off him, then pulls up one of her dainty looking chairs opposite him, so that they're facing each other when she sits down. She gives him her all-business look, Okay, let's talk. What brought this on, we're used to the red tape.

There are several issues I have with the way things are, not the least of which is that we can't be married and live openly. Hell, in this area gay men can live openly, but a hetero couple working for the department can't. The straw that broke the camel's back for me was when that punk's record was mentioned today. What we do usually has so little effect. The criminals are treated as if they're a privileged class, as cops we're treated like third class citizens with no rights. There's a host of other things, not the least of which is the damn rainy weather here, it's nearly time for that to set in again.

Mary gives him a stunned look, Whoa cowboy … let me digest all that for a bit. Somewhere in that diatribe I think you said you want to be married.

Larry lets her think on that for a minute or two. He actually enjoys watching her face mirror the thoughts going through her head. After a couple of minutes, he continues, Yes, you know darn well I want to be married and have a somewhat more normal life. Hell, as it is now, we live like vampire bats most of the time, out all night working to sustain ourselves, then hiding in our caves all day. I don't dare even hold your hand in public, for fear the brass will get wind of it. I hate that.

That doesn't sound like my macho man.

Larry shrugs, Well…I guess that's what it boils down to, I have to be somebody I'm not. If what we do made a real difference, then it might be worth doing, but it doesn't seem to, usually. About the only time what we do makes any difference, long term, is when we put the perps in the ground. Catching them, only so they get put back on the street in less time than it takes to do the paperwork isn't doing a damn thing.

That's a fact, but hold on, I haven't got past the idea of being married and having a regular life yet.

Larry's tone gets even more serious, So long as we're at the beck and call of the department, we won't have any semblance of a regular life.

So what do you think we should do? We're a long way from Pension City, how will we get by?

How many times have we busted some big drug dealer where there was tons of cash around, only to have them walk, and the money just disappear into the bigshots' pockets, without even a sniff of it coming back to the department in any form, cash or equipment? In fact, they've been increasing the pay for the brass, but not the rank and file. They've been cutting manpower and budgets right and left, but not the amount of brass at the top. I'm tired of that too.

Mary makes a pouty face, I've never taken a dime that I didn't earn, neither have you. I'm surprised you would suggest that.

We earn it every day, why should the bigshots that do nothing get it? We don't need to keep doing it like they do. The next time it's just the two of us taking down some big deal because we're all the manpower they'll budget, we should just keep the cash.

That would make us criminals.

How so?

We can't just take what doesn't belong to us.

Larry tries to remain calm, he'd like to holler, instead he lowers the level of his voice, Why not? Why should the bigshots get it for doing nothing? Would you rather the dope dealers and the like get to keep it? You know damn well the money is never returned to them. I'm not saying we stick around and keep doing it, we get enough to set us up somewhere else, then split.

I can see your point. I just don't know if I'm okay with it. Stealing from crooks … whether it's the street kind or the bureaucrats, is still stealing.

They steal our lives from us. The bureaucrats tax us to death, work us to death, and the criminals have all the rights. I don't see it as stealing, it would be justice, a fair reward for the risk taken.

Mary thinks for a few seconds before she replies, I don't know that I want to do it, but say we did decide to do it, how could we work it so we wouldn't get busted ourselves, how much do we need, to do what, and where?

Larry recoils a bit from the overloaded question, That's a lot of questions in one swift punch. Let's start with what you'd like to do. If money wasn't an issue, what would that be?

Hmmm, let me think on that a minute, you mean like really no issue, like we had enough to do anything?

We can start there, then work it down to something doable.

Mary sits still for a minute, though her face changes expression a myriad of times as the wheels turn in her head. Larry just watches the expressions change with every passing second. Her face can be so expressive, but while they're in public, it's a mask that shows nothing.

I'd like to travel, a lot, see all the famous tourist stuff, but spend some time in some places so that I could know the area and the people a bit too. First class travel, of course, rooms with room service at least, and being able to afford room service, which is usually pricey as hell.

I take it you mean other countries?

Well … that too, but we could start in the USA. I've never seen much of it, just a little passing through in a car, or on some low-rent vacations I've taken, nothing really nice. I mostly only saw military bases when I was growing up, they're pretty much all the same.

Larry raises an eyebrow quizzically, How would you like to travel, a private jet?

Mary shakes her head, No, we wouldn't see a thing that way. Maybe one of those snazzy motor homes, or even just a small one, we could stay in hotels most of the time, but having a private bathroom with us on the road would be damn handy. I'm not in love with the idea of rest stop or truck stop bathrooms all the time.

Larry rubs his chin, Good point. Okay, that's not unrealistic, at least for a while. Eventually, I'd like to have a home somewhere. Somewhere warm and dry, at least most of the time.

Mary is adamant, Not California, it's even crazier than here.

Larry agrees, No, not California, maybe Texas, Louisiana, any of the southern states, but far enough away from the coast to not have a big problem when the hurricanes roll in.

Mary leans back just a bit, That makes sense. We can check places out for that as we travel. We'll have to find something to do with ourselves too. Even if we had enough money to live on, and live well, we'd go stir crazy without something to occupy our time.

Larry rubs his chin again, typical when he's thinking things over, True, I don't know what that would be.

Mary cocks her head to the side a bit, her common trait when she has a wild idea, If we're going to go to the dark side, why not go all the way, we could start taking out the bad boys that skate away from the law.

Larry grins at her, Yeah, right. You're worried about taking their ill gotten gains, yet you want to off the pukes?

Mary frowns a bit at not being taken seriously, In for a penny, in for a pound. You know I don't have a problem with offing the bastards.

Larry adds, Without a badge to protect us what little it does, I don't know about that.

Mary cocks her head to the other side, a sure sign it's a very wild idea, We could be like a macho version of that old show… Oh, what was that called, the reruns are still on sometimes, some kind of team?

Larry offers, You mean the A-Team?

Mary nods her head, Yeah, like that, we go help ordinary people with extraordinary problems brought about by bad dudes. Except we won't be firing hundreds of rounds and not hitting a thing.

Larry thinks for a moment before he quips, The Feds were after their asses all the time, just before it ended, they had to go to work for the Feds, a team they could disavow if anything went wrong.

Mary's look gets very serious, I don't ever want to work for the Feds, even off the books, but we could send them evidence if taking out a few bozos wouldn't completely solve the problem.

Larry holds up his right hand in a stop motion for a second, Now you're really off the topic. Are you doing that on purpose?

Mary leans forward a bit, No, but if we do quit being cops, we should do something that puts both our cop skills and military training to good use. I don't know about you, but it's all I really know.

You can learn a new trade, hell you could go to school to learn anything, if you wanted.

Mary replies quickly, So could you, but I don't relish the idea of going back to school, not a regular school, at any rate.

Larry thinks it's time to wrap this conversation up for the time being, Me neither. I guess we just wait until the opportunity to score some big time cash presents itself, then we go from there, if we're really going to do it.

Mary isn't quite ready to let it go, Hey, we're detectives, lets detect, if we can scout out a drug deal or something where there will be a lot of cash, on our own, without the department knowing about it, it will be easier to skate with the cash.

I hadn't thought about that, but you're right. We'll have to make damn sure we're not walking into a department or Fed sting setup, that's for sure.

Yeah, that's for sure, but if we take it down like we're trying to bust them, if it is a setup, we'll get clued in on it fast, if it's not, we skate away with the cash.

And leave live witnesses? No, those guys would hunt us forever. If we do something like that, we have to make it look like the deal went bad, it ended in a shoot out, or maybe some other dealer offed them, something like that. I sure as hell don't want any fingers pointing at us so we have to be on the run and hiding out the rest of our lives. Our lives will be quite short if they catch us.

Mary thinks for a moment, saying only, Yeah, there is that.

Larry's stomach growls, Lets go out for lunch, I'm starved.

Mary thinks that over for all of two seconds, All right, that will give me time to get back in the mood to screw your brains out.

Larry smiles, Not all of them, please. I may need them soon.

Mary smiles back, All right, almost then, not quite.

That's my girl, lets go to McCormick's for lunch?

Sure, sounds good.

Chapter 3

McCormick's is a medium sized, family-run restaurant. There's nothing fancy here, not in the place or the food, so far as the types of things served, but it's good, honest food. For the most part, things like the rolls, salad dressings and such are made right on the premises. The word homemade comes to Larry's mind. Since it's not a home, it can't really be called homemade. Maybe handmade would be a better term.

They order the specials for today, something they don't often get to do, since when they usually stop by, it's either late in the evening or early in the morning, due to their usual vampiretic lifestyle. Today's special is meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, with a side of corn, a small salad, and of course the fresh rolls with real butter. Mary and Larry don't continue the earlier conversation in public. They chitchat about mundane things for them, various cases they've worked, just whatever comes to mind.

Larry is leaned back in the booth, his back against the wall rather than against the back of the booth, his legs are stretched out. He's watching Mary's expressive face as they chat. Suddenly she puts on her expressionless on the job face. Larry follows her gaze, casually. Two young guys with multiple piercings have just strolled into the place, wearing long black raincoats. This wouldn't be unusual, except for the fact that today it's warm and for once, not raining, it's very sunny today.

Larry just nods at Mary then gets out of the booth, mentioning a bit louder than he normally would that he needs to use the bathroom bad. He almost runs toward the bathrooms down a short hallway, just past the area where the to-go orders are placed, on the right side of the kitchen area.

He really does need to pee, so he does that quickly, then comes back out with his hands soaking wet. He walks up to the register area. The two suspects are supposedly still trying to make up their minds about what to order to-go. Hey, Nellie, go tell Joe your men's room is out of paper towels, will you please?

Sure, Larry, here, I have a roll right here for cleaning the glass, that should do for the moment. Larry takes the roll, peels off a few sheets, then sets the roll back on the counter. He dries his hands right here, then moves toward the waste basket nearby to toss the towels in. This action takes him past the suspects, he sees what he expected, the tip of a shotgun barrel protruding slightly from the split in one of these bozo's raincoat. The other clown has a similar bulge. He looks toward Mary and nods with a big fake smile.

Mary is already moving into position behind the suspects, the half wall that separates the ordering area from the dining room blocks their view of her.

Larry gets an idea. He grabs two bottles of their super hot sauce they have at the register for sale, one in each hand. In one quick motion, he slams the bottles across the bridge of both perp's noses, simultaneously breaking the bottles and sending the perps stumbling backwards, unable to see for the blood, glass, and\or hot sauce in their eyes. Before they can even think to swing their shotguns up, he and Mary are on them like the taxman on a paycheck. A few well placed knee lifts and a couple of punches added for good measure take the fight right out of them. Larry and Mary quickly cuff the would-be robbers, then search the punk-ass perps.

They find not only the cut down semi-auto shotguns, with spare ammo for them, but also each had two pistols. Both had a large Desert Eagle with several extra mags of ammo, like the one Mary carries except these are the chromed ones, and each had a hide out gun, one had a Smith and Wesson Chief's special, on an ankle, the other had a Walther PKS in his crotch. Mary puts all but the shotguns and the shells in her backpack that she generally carries instead of a purse. The perps surely won't own up to having more weapons when they were busted, that would be three separate weapons charges, alone enough to send them up for twenty years or more if the terms were served consecutively.

When the uniforms get here to take over the mess, one of them tells Mary and Larry that these guys are wanted for bank robbery, they probably really did just want to get some food before their next job, they were due to make another hit. In fact, the locals and Feds had several likely banks staked out, laying in wait for them.

Mary and Larry are glad to let the uniforms take credit for the collar, it will help their standing in the department. That way, the dynamic duo won't have to spend their own time filling out reports and being looked at by IA again. IA would surely wonder why they busted the guys when they neither knew they were wanted nor had the perps done anything to warrant their attention. IA just doesn't understand what it's like to be a street cop, though they all had to do time on the streets at some point, they seem to forget the street time once they get into IA.

Their food is served hot, Joe must have remade the order when he saw things were handled. They eat heartily, then pay the bill, even though Joe tries to refuse payment. Taking from scum is one thing, taking anything from hard working, honest people is another, other than the pay they more than earn, that is.

Larry suggests they go to their apartments for some sleep. Now, she agrees, the lack of sleep coupled with a full belly has quelled any other notions. They go to Larry's apartment this time, get undressed, get in his bed, then just snuggle until sleep overtakes them, which doesn't take long at all. There's not much of an adrenalin letdown this time, since there wasn't a lot of time for the adrenalin to build up. Still, the rush wearing off does help them get to sleep faster than usual.

Chapter 4

Even though Mary and Larry went to bed much later than usual, they wake up just a little later than they would on a work night. Not because of the alarm clock they didn't set, but because of habit, more than anything. Mary traipses to the bathroom first. She's notoriously slow. Larry really has to go, so he pulls on his clothes quickly, then goes down one floor to Mary's apartment. He has his own key, of course, so it's not a problem. He uses the bathroom here, initially for a long sit and stink, not so much a sit and think, but that's what it becomes.

I don't know what to think about my wild idea. Mary seems strange about it. At first, she's totally against it, but at the same time, she wants to find a bust we can make on our own, without anyone in the department knowing about it, so that it's easier to get away with it. She still hasn't said she's for or against it, outright, but I know that's why she kept those pistols today, in their holsters, with the perp's prints still on them, so that if and when we go to do anything like that, we'll be able to use them, then leave 'em behind, without 'em coming back to us. With those bozos in jail though, it could still come back to us. We should probably use totally clean weapons, or not leave their prints on them, since there are uniforms that know we really made that bust.

I really don't know what to think now. I don't know what I'd like to do, either. I always wanted to be a detective to put scumbags away, but unless we put them in the ground, these days they never seem to do any hard time, even when we catch them in the act. How the hell did that come about, anyway? When did it get so that even somebody caught in the act of committing a crime can walk away from it with little or no jail time? I guess Shakespeare was right, The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. He was nearly right, that's for sure, the way it's gotten these days. Hell, I don't know how many times just this department has been sued, just for cops doing their jobs, correctly. Nationwide, it must be a hell of an industry for the lawyers. They don't even have to run for public office to steal from the taxpayers, and can't even be voted out. What a scam they've got.

How the hell did I go off on that tangent? Oh yeah, if not for the bullshit, if I could really do some good, at least keeping the criminals from repeating their heinous crimes, I'd still like to be a cop. I hate to admit it, but even though Mary used a silly reference, I'd kind of like to go around helping people be rid of the criminal element. We couldn't take on just anyone, two of us wouldn't stand much chance against the Russian Mob, or even large street gangs, or would we … if we didn't have any rules to follow … hmm, it boggles the mind what a determined person with skills and a decent bankroll could do. I'll have to give it more thought later.

A funny voice interrupts his thoughts, Jesus, Larry, next time do that in your own place. You could have at least turned on the vent fan. The stink is permeating the bedroom too.

Larry looks up to see Mary holding her nose, her other hand is reaching for the switch to the vent fan he neglected to turn on. You were stinking up mine, so I used this one. I couldn't wait.

Still holding her nose with her left hand, she quips, Apparently you waited too long, that shit has done putrefied, that smells worse than a floater.

Oh gee, thanks for that image. I was thinking of getting something to eat, now I don't think so.

Still holding her nose, speaking up to be heard from the bedroom where she's backed up to, she responds, Well, I was thinking of that too, but that stink ended that idea for now, and any others I might have had. Be sure to take a shower when you're done, I'm going back to your place. Join me when you don't reek. Mary leaves the bedroom, in a minute he hears the front door of the apartment shut harder than usual.

After his mandatory shower, Larry heads back to his own apartment. He finds Mary in the living room, dressed casually, but obviously ready to go out somewhere. He looks her up and down then says, Are you going somewhere?

We're going out. First, I want to get something to eat, then we're going to the seedy side of town to see if we can scare up some info. Go get dressed, be sure to wear your high tech vest with the cup.

Just what are we doing all that for, we're off tonight, in case you've forgotten.

We need to start working on our own thing right away, before I chicken out.

What if I chicken out?

Then we just better get used to the idea that we'll never have a real life. I've been thinking it over. There's nothing much at the end of a long career as cops for us. Pensions that will probably be so small we'll have to work as rent-a-cops or something, or long before then a perp could get lucky and take one of us out. Maybe IA would can one or both of us, then we'd really have nothing to show for it. Leastways if we get popped doing something for ourselves, we gave it the good old college try.

Larry nods his head, Wow, you make a more concise, convincing argument than I did. All right, give me a minute. I take it we wear those guns we took off those perps?

No, not now. We'll take them along in case we stumble on to something, but for now we'll use our regular weapons, acting just as if we're on duty.

All right. Larry steps into the bedroom to get dressed for the part, his usual half-casual slacks, running shoes and open collar shirt, with a well worn but clean navy colored blazer to cover his weapons. He wears his Sig in the small of the back, and a Colt Commander in forty-five ACP worn cross-draw style just to his left side, not quite to his hip. After a moment's reflection, he adds his baby Glock to one ankle, and another Sig to the other. He never likes to wear just one ankle gun, he feels like it makes him walk funny. A few extra mags for each weapon go in special pockets added to the blazer, as all his blazers and suit jackets are redone.

Now heavily armed, and dangerous as always, he marches into the living area. Mary gives him an appraising look. Comb your hair, then you'll be ready to go.

Oops, I forgot. Larry takes a comb out of his back pocket, then combs his strawberry blonde hair quickly. Mary steps in front of him to check her blonde wig, something she often wears on the job. Her natural hair is coal black and wavy, since she's half-black. She looks more of Mexican descent than black, just the way the mix came out, like somebody stirred the mix.

Mary often wears a wig on the job for reasons other than appearance. If she gets in a tussle, and the perp grabs her hair, the perp comes away with the wig and winds up getting a very ticked off Mary kicking ass, while the perp wonders what the hell just happened.

A minuscule adjustment of the material covered titanium cup that comes with the men's vests gets Larry ready to go, a little more fussing with her wig gets Mary ready to leave. They go out together, their hands on their weapons. This neighborhood isn't the best, they always enter and leave with their hands on their weapons. Word has gotten around that cops live in this particular building, the punks, druggies and low-rent thieves tend to leave it alone, lately. Of course, there's always the chance some lowlife didn't get the word, or is just in such bad need of his or her next fix to care. They use Larry's old Ford pickup tonight, since it's old and beat up, it won't really get noticed in the parts of town they're likely to wind up in.

Chapter 5

McCormick's is closed, since it's later than they usually go out before the start of their shift at eleven, so they wind up at Beth's Café on Winona Avenue. They're in luck, it's just early enough to beat the bulk of the bar crowd in. They still have to park in the lot on the block behind Beth's. Parking is always tough on Winona Avenue itself. When they get inside, they place their order for one six-egg omelet with nearly the works just before the bar crowd starts wandering or stumbling in.

The omelet is huge, so like many people, they share it. It's not even the biggest the place makes, they also do a twelve-egg omelet. That's too much unless there are at least four or more, since it comes with all-you-can-eat hashbrowns.

While they wait on their order, they don't say much, they're mostly listening and watching the bar crowd, hoping that maybe one of them is drunk or otherwise high enough to say something that will lead them to a big cash bust. That idea is quelled when people start feeding money into the jukebox and it starts blasting out various rock tunes, from the oldie-moldies to the newest junk.

Fortunately, the food is served quickly. They eat rather quickly, so as not to have to put up with this assault on their eardrums for any longer than absolutely necessary. The jukebox and the patrons are so loud, it's not an enjoyable meal, even though the omelet is very tasty.

Larry pays the bill, then they go outside to get away from the noise. As they stroll back around to their car, Larry resists the urge to hold hands with Mary, somebody in blue might cruise by, looking to write DUI tickets. Of course, it's better if they have both their hands free in case of trouble, too. They find some when they get to the parking lot.

Two guys are squared off with each other, with knives in their hands. Several others are standing around hooting and cajoling them on.

The guys with the knives are dressed in biker leathers. They're eyeing each other, moving around in circles, waiting for an opening. They hold their knives in an underhand grip, favored by everyone that knows how to fight with a knife. Sure, it's possible the knife could get knocked back into the wielder's arm, but a whole lot less likely to get knocked out of their hand than when held straight out. Without