It was a cold winter evening. I was wearing my fine denim trenchcoat of which I was very fond. Paul also was appropriately dressed for the weather. We were on our way to Albertson's grocery store to develop some Kodak disc film and post an item for sale on the community bulletin board at the entrance to the store.
There was in our neighborhood a man who lived on a corner who was reputed to confront people who cut across his lawn. As we approached his house Paul said "Watch this!" and made a snowball. It was very firm. Wisely, he threw it directly at this man's large front window which, when struck, vibrated terribly near the point of shattering. I shouted something along the lines of "Holy crap!" and we both bolted down the street, continuing toward Albertson's but at a much more hurried pace.
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| Boog For Sale. |
We arrived at Albertson's, posted our for-sale bulletin and purchased some terribly cheap canned goods to take over to the nearby Little Caesars Pizza Pizza to exchange for crazy bread during some promotion they had going which we took advantage of at least once per day. Next stop: the film center to drop off my state-of-the-art film for processing. Suddenly a hand was on my shoulder spinning me around and I was face-to-face with this man whose window Paul had nearly shattered with an ice-ball. Let's call him The Interrogationator since I think that's what Paul called him. He has a real name but I don't know what it is and The Interrogationator suits me.
He started his accusations by telling me that he knew I was the one who had thrown the snowball at his window and did I know how he knew? Because he had followed me and he recognized my trenchcoat. I told him he had the wrong guy. I did not throw any snowball at any window. He said he knew I was lying, and to prove it he told me that he was a detective on the Orem police force for 30 years. I said that was fine with me, but I still didn't throw a snowball at his window or any other. Meanwhile, Paul was making his way casually toward the exit. Apparently The Interrogationator wasn't such a great detective that he noticed TWO! people running away from the scene of the incident. The Interrogationator noticed that I had my wallet out and demanded to see it. I refused. The lady working the film center looked at me sheepishly, embarrased for me that this guy was making such a scene. He told me that he could have me taken to the police station for questioning. I told him that I doubted that he could but even if he could he wasn't likely to. He made several more officious statements that were meant to intimidate me and I told him that if he was going to do something about it he ought to get on with it cause I had to finish filling out my film-deposit envelope.
Finally The Interrogationator left and I finished depositing my film. On my way out the door I saw the Interrogationator talking to Paul outside by the pay phone. He was telling Paul not to worry, that he wasn't angry with Paul, but that he knew I was the one who had thrown the snowball. He regaled Paul with several tidbits of information about his experience as a police detective and after that he left. But the thing he left most was an impression of his excellent skills in detection. Then we got our crazy bread.
