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Christmas
Patrol Songs
By,
Jennifer E. Miller
Sunday morning, Tom and I were
enjoying our usual cups of coffee. It had snowed overnight, and Tom hoped it
would evaporate soon so he wouldn’t have to work in it. Driving the patrol car around
at night with snow and ice and whatever else lurking beneath wasn’t his idea
of a favorable working environment. I tried to lighten his mood.
“You should sing Christmas songs to
the people you arrest,” I said.
“Why would I do that?” Tom asked as picked
up the newspaper and scanned the headlines.
“To get into the Christmas spirit.”
Tom gave me a questioning look.
“Come on. If someone hits an ungulate—”
“A what?” Tom interrupted, looking up.
“Ungulate. Hooved animal. If someone
hits an ungulate on Christmas Eve—”
“They’re probably drunk,” Tom interrupted
again and looked back to the paper.
“Maybe the ungulate caused the
accident.”
“That’s what they all say.”
He took a sip of coffee.
“No. What I mean is perhaps a little
old lady got trampled by an ungulate and it fled the scene and thus darted out
in front of a drunk driver who then smashed it. Then you could sing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”
Tom chuckled. “Okay, that’s funny,
but no I’m not singing.”
“If you arrest a drunk driver who
said they hit a deer after they witnessed it flatten a granny; you wouldn’t
sing?”
Tom took another sip, set his coffee
cup down with a thunk, and looked me in the eye.
“If that exact scenario happened on
Christmas Eve, I would sing Grandma Got
Run Over by a Reindeer while transporting the drunk driver to jail.”
“You could go further,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Tom asked. Once
again, lifting coffee to his lips.
“Arrest a meth head and sing All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front
Teeth.”
Bursting out laughing, coffee spewed.
It splattered all over the newspaper, smearing the print.
“See, wouldn’t that make work more
fun?” I added.
Tom didn’t answer, but I’m pretty
sure he agreed. He just wasn’t convinced about this karaoke nonsense.
“Geez, you could even hook a liberal
and belt out Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”
Rolling his eyes he said, “We’re
having a mild winter. It’ll never fly.”
“You’re just worried someone’s gonna
complain their feelings got hurt. All you’re doing is singing a song in good
ole seasonal spirit.”
“That tune has been banned from the radio
anyhow.”
“Newsflash: you’re not the radio.”
“I have a radio.”
“Newsflash: don’t sing it so dispatch hears. Speaking of which, there’s another one.”
“Another what?” Tom asked confused.
“Song. How many times has a drunk
asked you to repeat your instructions?”
Tom chuckled. “Quite a bit. I
usually respond with ‘didn’t you hear me?’”
“Exactly! But instead of using that
phrase you could simply start singing Do
You Hear What I Hear?”
“You’re going a tad overboard, don’t
you think?”
“Nah. Just don’t sing White Christmas.”
“Why is that?”
“Cause you said you didn’t want to
work in snow. Don’t sing for the snow to arrive.”
Copyright 2018 Jennifer E. Miller
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