I burst through the chief's doors and yelled toward the desk, "I didn't wanna be taken off homicide---" but the chief wasn't there. It was some dame instead.
Cop on the Edge, Episode 6M. Stanley Bubien
A Meeting with the Chief
"What's the meaning of this?" she retorted, pointing the phone toward me.
I hate dames who use telephones for intimidation. "Where's the chief?" I asked.
"Right here!" she waved toward herself.
I stepped back involuntarily.
She grinned at my reaction, but said, "I don't like unannounced visitors, mister... So get the hell outta here!"
"That's an order, officer!"
"I don't take orders from dames."
Hanging up the phone, she replied, "From this dame you do." She nodded toward a campaign sign on the wall, "I'm your new chief."
"The election!" I gasped.
"That's right. I'm the da---person! who won."
"I didn't vote for you," I said, and the room got quiet, real sudden like.
She pulled a cigarette and lit it. "I don't give a damn who you voted for," she breathed, thick with smoke. "The people were tired of the same old bull. Sick of skyrocketing crime. Fed up with the economy. They wanted change, and I'm gonna give it to 'em. I'm building a bridge to their future."
I grabbed the pack on her desk. She studied me briefly, but handed me her cigarette so I could use its tip to light mine.
"Nice speech." I spat on my thumb, and as I snuffed her cigarette out, I said "I bet the next thing you'll be telling me is that you didn't inhale."
Copyright ©1996 M. Stanley Bubien. All Rights Reserved.
Please contact the editor for free text versions of this very short story formatted for e-mail, Usenet news, or ftp.