Why did I write this?

Flaherty was new to the squad, fresh out of training camp. He was like an unripe grape on a branch full of ripe grapes, like an unripe tomato on a plant full of ripe tomatoes, he was like any sort of fruit not yet to the harvesting stage while other fruits or people were at that stage, ripe and mature. How he wound up in with this rag-tag group of seasoned cops he'd never know. Although, that was really just a figure of speech, he knew he was specifically assigned to this precinct based on his test scores and profile. Good ol' Flaherty.

The Chief was a squat man who awkwardly carried around about 80 extra pounds. His thick black hair was a mess and had the look of a cabbage gone wrong, a hairy cabbage gone terribly wrong. His ill-fitting clothes completed his awful appearance. He looked like a dog who was dressed in people clothes, except, he was people. Flaherty was told to avoid any trouble with him as he had a nasty temper. Little did Flaherty know then that he and the Chief would be paired up in the most unlikely scenario in just a few short hours.

It was before eight in the morning on a cool September morning. The excitement and intrigue would happen at lunch time, out on the street, and would involve a hot dog vendor, a middle distance runner, a tall Hasidic Jew, Flaherty and the Chief. Did I mention it was morning?

The first couple hours at the station were spent filling out paperwork, piles and piles of it. Sign here, initial this, accept this, refuse that, piles and piles of it. When he got his gun he thought the worst was over. Then more paperwork, piles and piles of it. It went on for ages. He needed a donut, badly. Donuts gave him the sugar high he needed to make it through the morning slog. I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't a cop thing, it was a Flaherty thing.

Flaherty really liked donuts.


Flaherty