This one had to do with finishing a nice lunch and, having picked up the check, noticed a message written on the check--write this scene.
We were just finishing our lunch when Jennifer, our waiter brought the check. As I glanced up to thank her for being a gracious hostess I noticed her somber mood--quite different from her usual cheeriness.
"Thank you." she said as she cleared away our dishes and nodded toward the check.
I picked it up curiously and found a message had been written in short-hand!
"Cheryl, we gotta go."
"Let me just finish ..."
"NOW!"
"Alright! I'm right behind you." As she gave me that "What gives?" stare.
Rushing out the front door after paying I broke into a dead run around the back of the building.
"Em!" "What the hell is going on?"
"Cheryl, that check had a message in short-hand written on it. Jennifer and I both took short-hand in high school. In short, they are being robbed and they have one hostage in back in need of medical attention. Call 911 for ambulance service while I call for back-up."
After calling for back-up I got my weapon from my inside jacket pocket and went to assess how grave the situation was.
My name is Emma and I work as an undercover narcotics officer for the Arizona state task force. I would say I'm quite good at what I do as my physical features belie my age and abilities--both mentally and physically--and allows me to go places the rest of the unit can't. Today just happens to be a day where the bad guys assumed Cheryl and I were just a couple of friends enjoying lunch--harmless.
"Cheryl!, are they on the way?"
"Yeah." "How do you remember short-hand from high school?"
"I still use it to take notes on work sites."
"You're not right Em--you're still a geek!"
"And that is why you love me as a friend--good,geeky, and great!"
"You OK?"
"Yeah, go on, get back out of here. I don't need to protect anymore than I have to."
"Call me!"
I saluted her and went back to scouting out the back parking area behind the restaurant. Back-up came in silent as I had requested and went into position. Two snipers were set at strategic locations. I had an inkling that the note Jen had written had more between the lines than could have been noted--could this be our lucky day? Could this be the drug bust I'd been working toward? It wouldn't be all that unusual really. I'd seen many of the suspected players in and around the restaurant on several occasions.
"Em."
"Go."
"We've got a lock on the one perp holding the hostage and Mike just went through the front door."
"Any in a harmful position in the main room?"
"No. All clear and the two scouts are...resting comfortably!"
"On my count then." I reached the back screen door and grabbed the handle.
"Three...Two..One--GO! GO! GO!"
Everything went into a tail spin of activity with some food thrown in for special effects. The bad boys were finally suffed and hauled away leaving a very upset but grateful staff. As we were being congratulated I stepped up and announced the real hero was Jennifer.
"Jennifer!?" someone hollered in disbelief.
"How?" came the same voice.
"If it hadn't been for her swift thinking and being able to get a message to me via a table check this could have gone a whole lot worse than it did. Three cheers for Jen!"
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Writer's Digest Prompts
This is a geat site for budding writers or those who have the all encompassing writers' block. I've posted two entries under Emerald Gypsy and I can't wait to do more.....
Here's the poem I wrote for one of the prompts: You had to write a 20 line poem about your favorite article of clothing (hat, shoes, t-shirt, etc.). Do I REALLY need to tell you what my first poem was about? Didn't think so....here it is:
Oh little scraps of
cloth, leather, twine
to you I owe my most
heartfelt whine!
You dazzle and tempt me
with a window's stare
the color and shape
such a marvelous pair.
The dream of you
upon my feet
my heart starts racing
I make the leap.
Into the store
with "I'll try those on"
a flash in the mirror
seals the con.
As I strut my stuff
in an "all night long"
my feet complain
"You've done me wrong!"
And the other prompt was this: You wake up to the sizzling smell of French Toast coming from your neighbor's house. The problem is that the two of you are not on speaking terms. How do you get the French Toast?
Here's my rendition:
Living in France and unable to speak the language fluently has its drawbacks--or so I thought.
I was there on assignment and had just finished unpacking thru the wee hours of the night figuring an early morning start would give me time to acclimate to a new and exciting world I knew little about.
My first inclination of this assignment being different from the others was the intoxicating smell emanating from the kitchen window next door to me. Instead of the drab fare of bagels and cream cheese I was used to eating on the run this was an honest to God, authentic, mouth-watering, get your butt up and go get some--French Toast!!
There was only one problem--We, my new neighbor and I, had never met and I didn't speak enough French to even fathom an introduction. There comes a time however, when you throw caution to the wind and in this case the smell of that French Toast was about to send mine into a tornado!
Following a quick scrub-up, brush through my hair and the resolve to go forward I went purposely through my front door and knocked on my neighbors. The door was answered by an OMG hunk of mankind with six-pack abs dressed in jeans.
Working laboriously not to stare and using the little French I knew to try and introduce myself I caught his look of total surprise. Thinking it was my horrible use of language I stuttered but was caught short by his finger pointing back at me and his attempt at English saying "You,…okay?"
I looked down at myself only to discover to my complete horror that I was still dressed in my skimpy nightgown!!
I ran back to my apartment and slammed the door. What was I thinking? That was just it, I wasn't. My brain had been hell-bent on procuring some wonderful smelling French Toast only to have the hopes utterly dashed by my lack of attention to details.
Great. I'd not only embarrased myself for the eternity of my stay, I still had the gut-gnawing hunger for French Toast--HIS French Toast.
Humiliated, I went to my room and finally got dressed to meet the world. Just as I was coming out and wandering into my own kitchen for a dismal breakfast of cereal there came a knock on my door.
To my surprise it was Mr. gorgeous with a heaping plate of French Toast. He nodded toward my balcony table and smiled.
To date it was the best assignment I'd had and the outcome was an unexpected wedding five months later. The reception was held as an early morning breakfast event. Main course-French Toast!
Not too bad for some unblocking techniques.....My great novel might garner some momentum for the ones who want me to write one on my life's ventures--we'll see.
Here's the poem I wrote for one of the prompts: You had to write a 20 line poem about your favorite article of clothing (hat, shoes, t-shirt, etc.). Do I REALLY need to tell you what my first poem was about? Didn't think so....here it is:
Oh little scraps of
cloth, leather, twine
to you I owe my most
heartfelt whine!
You dazzle and tempt me
with a window's stare
the color and shape
such a marvelous pair.
The dream of you
upon my feet
my heart starts racing
I make the leap.
Into the store
with "I'll try those on"
a flash in the mirror
seals the con.
As I strut my stuff
in an "all night long"
my feet complain
"You've done me wrong!"
And the other prompt was this: You wake up to the sizzling smell of French Toast coming from your neighbor's house. The problem is that the two of you are not on speaking terms. How do you get the French Toast?
Here's my rendition:
Living in France and unable to speak the language fluently has its drawbacks--or so I thought.
I was there on assignment and had just finished unpacking thru the wee hours of the night figuring an early morning start would give me time to acclimate to a new and exciting world I knew little about.
My first inclination of this assignment being different from the others was the intoxicating smell emanating from the kitchen window next door to me. Instead of the drab fare of bagels and cream cheese I was used to eating on the run this was an honest to God, authentic, mouth-watering, get your butt up and go get some--French Toast!!
There was only one problem--We, my new neighbor and I, had never met and I didn't speak enough French to even fathom an introduction. There comes a time however, when you throw caution to the wind and in this case the smell of that French Toast was about to send mine into a tornado!
Following a quick scrub-up, brush through my hair and the resolve to go forward I went purposely through my front door and knocked on my neighbors. The door was answered by an OMG hunk of mankind with six-pack abs dressed in jeans.
Working laboriously not to stare and using the little French I knew to try and introduce myself I caught his look of total surprise. Thinking it was my horrible use of language I stuttered but was caught short by his finger pointing back at me and his attempt at English saying "You,…okay?"
I looked down at myself only to discover to my complete horror that I was still dressed in my skimpy nightgown!!
I ran back to my apartment and slammed the door. What was I thinking? That was just it, I wasn't. My brain had been hell-bent on procuring some wonderful smelling French Toast only to have the hopes utterly dashed by my lack of attention to details.
Great. I'd not only embarrased myself for the eternity of my stay, I still had the gut-gnawing hunger for French Toast--HIS French Toast.
Humiliated, I went to my room and finally got dressed to meet the world. Just as I was coming out and wandering into my own kitchen for a dismal breakfast of cereal there came a knock on my door.
To my surprise it was Mr. gorgeous with a heaping plate of French Toast. He nodded toward my balcony table and smiled.
To date it was the best assignment I'd had and the outcome was an unexpected wedding five months later. The reception was held as an early morning breakfast event. Main course-French Toast!
Not too bad for some unblocking techniques.....My great novel might garner some momentum for the ones who want me to write one on my life's ventures--we'll see.
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