†††††††††††††††††††††††† Bow Legged Sheriff
††††††††††††††††††††††††† ††††††By Curtis Jackson
Have you ever seen the old western statue of the skinny bow legged sheriff. I have personally been accused of closely resembling that statue. Maybe I did, a little. In my opinion though, BLS (Bow Legged Sheriff) not only visually resembled that statue, he was an "exact" copy. In my view he beat me hands down. Everyone knows BLS was one of those outstanding cops who just had a nose for solving crimes. This short story though is not about how good of a cop he was. This is a humorous story of how BLS was always ready to go "on duty." No matter how bad BLS felt, or the situation he might of found himself in, he was ready to go to "work" and take somebody to jail. You could tell he loved his job.
On this particular day, I was sitting in the tactical office minding my own business. I could hear loud talking coming from down the hall. I figured it was emanating from somewhere near the Watch Sergeantís Office. Moments later I could hear the loud steps of someone running down the hallway towards our office. As I started to get up, BLS ran into the office, spinning his body around so his back would be up against the wall for support. He put one of his fingers in the direction of his lips, and said "shooooooo". In a slurred voice he said, "those %#$@& say I canít go to work." BLSís face glowed a bright red. I looked down at his feet. I swear he was wearing the same boots that the old Sheriff had on in that western statue. Actually, I could only see one boot as his other foot, and boot, was wedged in my trash can. Apparently it had become lodged on his foot when he "high stepped and spun" into the office. After a short pause, he slowly slurred "Jackson, do I look drunk to you?" The odor emitting from his breath was tantamount to touring the Budweiser Brewery. Wanting to be as honest with him as I could, I said "no BLS, you look good to me". He said, while trying to dislodge the trash can from his foot by kicking outward while simultaneously trying to maintain his balance by leaning on the wall, those %#$@* think Iím drunk. He started blowing in my direction while asking me again if I could smell any "booze" on his breath. I again assured him I could only smell a slight scent of mint. Maybe peppermint. On that he peeled around, and headed out the door with the trash can firmly wedged on his foot. He indicated he was going back to talk to the supervisors and straighten this matter out.
As he "clumped and clanged" down the hall he would constantly kick out with his trash can foot, in an apparent attempt to dislodge it. The kicking action finally worked as the trash can finally came off and came to rest near the Watch Commanderís office. The last I heard of the story was that RC begrudgingly agreed to let someone drive him home, even though he knew personally he was ready, willing and able to work.
RCís outstanding reputation can withstand one of these humorous stories, or I wouldnít have told it. Besides Iím sure he had only "one drink" as a result of celebrating some momentous life changing event. BLS was one of the best at FPK.