A Policeman's Lot | Teen Ink

A Policeman's Lot

March 6, 2011
By Hannibal GOLD, Chelsea, Michigan
Hannibal GOLD, Chelsea, Michigan
14 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Policeman Bob looked at the steering wheel after he parked the car. Bob always did this he would watch as his breath turned white and the minutes tick by and think of what happened that day. Today he sat there for 10 minutes; he needed the extra time to recover from the horrors that pierced his mind. He pulled out the key and slammed the door shut as he got out, he paused opened the door and slammed it again just liking the power and anger he could put into it. After slamming the door three more time he stalked the cobble walkway that was supposed to be “Inviting, Warm but High Class”. Bob didn’t really understand how someone could put all of this in a walkway but he stepped across the pathway anyway. He opened the door which told the same sort of story as the walkway. The front room was dark wooden floors contrasted by bright white carpets and couches. There was something in there called a love seat Bob shuddered. He pulled his boots off and laid them by the door, he marched purposefully across the room looking as comfortable as a hippie at business school. He skipped up the winded staircase three steps at a time the next floor looked just like the last. He opened the door closest to him the handle was as cold as his eyes and he turned it with the spirit of someone about to be pushed off a cliff. Deciding to rip the bandage off fast he kicked the door wide open with shocking force. “SURPRISE, surprise, SURPRISE, surprise!!!!!!” about a bajillion people jumped out from their poorly picked hiding spots. There were balloons on the ceiling, a colossal monstrosity of some sort of cake-ice cream creation and gifts scattered that all had the air of being picked out by someone else. Bob had expected this since he slammed his door five times. He did the only thing a self respecting defender of the city could do. He arrested all of them. As he walked out the door he heard the cries of indignation, the lights of the police cruisers, smelled the fresh air and ate a piece of the cake in his hand. This much was obvious, Bob hated his birthday.


The author's comments:
I had a music piece on my cello called "A Policeman's Lot" and was inspired to put a backstory of my own to it.

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