Livin' close to work.
"This is so weird," my wife said, as I scooped my second bowl of red beans from the pot and crumbled some cornbread over it. "Are you sure you won't get in trouble for this? It just feels strange having you come home during work."
I had picked up an evening shift to let one of my single bretheren have a Friday night off for a hot date, and decided to take advantage of having moved into the town I patrol by stopping in for lunch. "Sweetie, it's fine. I'm allowed an hour for lunch, so long as I monitor calls. And, frankly, this is better than me leaving town for lunch," I said as I slurped some beans off the bread, getting some on my chin, but not, thankfully, on my uniform shirt.
At this point, my wife said something that I missed, because one of my colleagues in the town up the Farm To Market road was calling pursuit, with his siren running in the background. They were headed in the general direction of my town. By this point I had my left ear pressed to the remote mic on my shoulder, and my right hand blocking sound to my other ear. (Hint: this looks kind of rude to the person talking to you.) "Gotta go," I said.
She sighed. "Whatever."
I headed out to the car, got in, and as I fired it up realized that I still had a bowl of beans in my hand. I set it on the seat. The radio reported that my colleague was getting closer, at speeds in excess of 105 mph. Two motorcycles. I fired up the flashy-flash and the woo-woo box, and headed out toward the pursuit. Realize that we must be very close, I stopped (beyond the creek bridge, dummy!), and slew my car across both lanes of traffic as I saw a single headlight coming on fast. I swept my spotlight across the road (it was sundown, but still fairly light), pointed it right at the fleeing cyclist before stepping in front of my car at the gap of the road and pointing my Glock at him and telling him to get off the bike as he rolled up.
He did have the presence of mind to use his kickstand before getting to the ground. Good for him.
After cuffing him and handing him off to the pursing officer, I received a disturbance in progress call, and took off to respond to a large woman reported to be trying to beat in a residence door. I negotiated her leaving for the occupant giving her her property, and she left. I marked the times on my daily call sheet, and went back home. I'd been gone for 49 minutes, and had over half my break left.
The bowl had spilled a little. Niiiice. Something to clean up.
My wife was surprised as I walked in, and said,"Turned out to be nothing, huh?"
"No, I made a felony arrest by gunpoint and stopped a reported 'home invasion' before coming back," I said, digging into my second second bowl of beans.
"Good lord. I'd have to change my pants if I'd just done that," she said.
"It's just the job," I said with the cool nonchalance of a Real Hero [t.m.]... while remembering how I had been standing my ground in the middle of the Farm-To-Market highway, blocking high-speed traffic, drawing down on that cyclist, and dropped my support hand for a second, because I had to wipe bean juice off my chin.