From the Sky - Part III

Of course, the circus started immediately. The old bastard went bananas, coming down from his porch and screaming god knows what, waving his arms around, bringing people out from their living rooms and kitchens to view the spectacle. Someone called the police of course, and next thing I know I'm standing next to the cruiser with a pimply young cop pointing a finger in my face and yapping something sternly at me. Clement-Clarence-whatever was still laying on my front yard, still cupping his wounded toolbox, and his father was gesturing wildly and probably calling for my public execution.

Things didn't look good for me.

A second cruiser pulled up. I recognized the policeman who stepped out; he and his wife attend the ASL class Joe and I are taking. Officer O'Halloran. Their daughter is deaf. We signed greetings. He asked what happened. I was still livid. I told him everything; I left nothing to the imagination. He went to the other officer and talked a moment, then came back to me. He signed that Mr. Franco wanted me arrested for assaulting his son. I said the old bastard was lucky his son was still drawing breath. He grinned and bit his lip, and then wanted to know if I had invited the man into my yard. I shook my head no. Did I want him charged him with trespassing or lewdness? I looked over at Clarence-Clement-whatever, who was struggling to rise to his knees, and figured he had probably suffered enough. I said that if could scrape himself off my lawn and leave, I'd overlook any charges if he would do the same.

Ten minutes later, the cops were gone and Mr. Franco and his limping son had disappeared into the old bastard's house. I made one last stab at starting the Craftsman. It fired right up …I suppose it was just flooded, or maybe there was air in the fuel line or something… and I finished the lawn. There were no spectators on the Franco porch.

Fetch to toolbox...

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