The story was a complete fabrication, and I was livid. It was one of my wife’s favorite farm stands. It was small, local, and owned by an old man with a white beard and a big belly who somewhat resembled Santa Claus when he was out of uniform. He was friendly,...
My Shift Supervisor had been a cop for as long as I had been alive. He laughed with a snarl and boasted a vintage 1970’s mustache that rivaled industrial size push-brooms. In a small department like mine his promotion to sergeant — and then lieutenant —...
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