Anthropophagi

an•thro•poph•a•gi -- Pronunciation: (an"thru-pof'u-jī", -gī").

***

She has beautiful blue eyes, a slender woman with long blonde hair who looks like at one time she was very pretty, but she has been sleeping on a mattress in a house that smells like urine. She says she has back pain and has been hurting too much to leave the house. She has two dogs there and the cop asks her who is going to feed the dogs while she is away.

"No one," she says. "I'm here alone."

"What about the guy who lives with you?"

"I got rid off him," she says.

On the way to the hospital, she admits she's on methadone, but has lapsed from her drug program, and has done heroin in the last few days.

***

A week later.

We get called to an address and told to wait for the cops. There is a dead body in the house and there are dogs. The cops ask us for masks. Evidently there is a stink.

We only have three masks. I let the two officers and my partner have them. I have learned over the years how to breathe so the smell doesn't get to me.

The officer opens the door. A little white dog meets us. I notice a red stain on his cheek.

We start to walk through the house. I see a bigger larger dog dart quickly across my line of vision(almost like a wolf in the movies), then dissappear. There are piles of excrement scattered about the carpet. I'm guessing the dogs have been alone for several days at least.

The officer checks each room as we go. I am starting to recognize the house. "I've been here before," I say now. "There is a woman who lives here. Her bedroom is down this way."

Stepping over the feces, I lead the officer to the back bedroom where we find her laying semi- naked across the mattress. Her hair has been ripped out, her face eaten off. You basically see a skeleton head sticking out of a dead but still meated torso. She looks like an extra from Raiders of the Lost Arc. I am both drawn and repulsed by the sight. I remember how pretty her eyes were.

I notate the time, then leave the room.

Later an officer holds a pole with a loop on the end, which he is hoping to put over the neck of the bigger dog who growls at him. They appear to be at a standoff. The officer is not the regular dog officer. He looks very nervous. Another officer tries to tempt the dog with a biscuit.

The dog isn’t interested in the biscuit.

***

an•thro•poph•a•gi Pronunciation: (an"thru-pof'u-jī", -gī"), eaters of human flesh.

Random House Unabridged Dictionary, Copyright © 1997, by Random House

Don't Quit the Day Job

Guy goes to the paint store, buys some white paint. Driving back to his mother's house in the north end of the city he is driving through a green light when bam. He gets slammed by a car being chased by the police. The other car rolls. A fire hydrant is hit. Water sprays everywhere. The guys in the rolled car get out and run down the street, the cops in foot pursuit. The other guy gets out of the car feels pain in his legs and lays down on the sidewalk.

When we get there, I see the guy on the sidewalk. His face and shirt are white with goop. I look inside the car. There is an exploded paint can. We board and collar him and take him to the hospital.

I check in with him later and he is all cleaned up. "Dude," I say, "I thought you were a white guy. I was thinking what are you doing in this part of town?"

***

Later we go to a nursing home for a lady who lost control of her motorized wheel chair and slammed her foot into her bed. The first thing I ask for is her licence and registration. My day to be the comedian. I'm going to have to draw blood to check your alcohol level, I say.

My Sunshine/Little Daddy

A three year-old hits his head. The cops are questioning the mother when we get there. It looks like an accident. The kid just banged his head. He didn't lose conciousness -- he just hurts when he moves his head. His mother has to be six two and well over four hundred pounds -- she has a big belly hanging out under her tee-shirt. She wears yellow fuzzy duck slippers. She is cuddling the little boy to her when I come in like he is a tiny baby doll.

When we take him in the ambulance, she starts singing to him as tears flow down her cheeks. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine (sob) you make me happy when times are grey (sob sob) You never know dear how much I love you, don't take my sunshine away. (sob) Sing it with me now little one... You are my sunshine..."

Her voice is high and scratchy. I am worried if she falls forward, she is going to crush the little boy. He looks very scared, laying all bundled up on the backboard holding his teddy bear.

"Who does your mommy love most in the world?"

"Me," he says, and smiles.

"Who's my daddy?" she asks him.

"Me," he says in a soft quiet voice.

"That's right," she says. "You will always be my little daddy."

Modern Medicine

"Did you hear what happened to Bob?"

"No?"

Bob is my old partner. I am a little concerned by the urgency of the question.

"He had an MI."

"What?"

"He had an MI."

"Is he okay? What happened?"

"He was working with Sally. He wasn't feeling well. They were at Central Hospital. She said he was pale as a ghost. They took his blood pressure at triage -- 70/30. Popped him on the monitor. ST elevation. They had him in the cath lab in 15 minutes. He's up in Denmore. You should go see him."

I can't believe it. Bob. A heart attack. I ask for and get permission to go cross town to Central to see him.

I go up to the room. I am dreading what I am going to see. Bob has been a hero to me. Here he is at sixty strong, vigorous, still working the street, still managing the lifts and carry-downs. I picture him frail, grey, broken with tremoring hands, on an 02 cannuala, barely able to open his eyes, a voice so weak I have to bend over to hear his words, IV lines running into both arms.

I enter the room. Two nurses stand by the foot of the bed laughing. I look at the patient. Bob wearing only grey gymn shorts is laying on the bed his head propped against his arm. He is holding court. "They shot him right in the groin," he says. "So we're caring him down the stairs, trying to get him to the hospital before he bleeds out, and all he's concerned about is his little friend. He's shouting, "My dick! My dick! Where's my dick?"

The nurses are in hysterics.

Bob's color is better than a California Life Guard's. He is perfectly tanned -- all except his wrist watch. He is after all a nudist.

"Bob!" I say. "Look at you, you look great!"

"Speak of the devil," he says. "Ladies, my old partner. Yeah, I'm doing fine, they're taking great care of me."

"I can see that."

"Funny thing," he says, after the nurses have left. "I just wasn't feeling right. I sat down in triage to take my pressure just to see. Next thing I know I'm in the cath lab, and they're telling me I'm having an MI. Anyway. Very little damage. I should be out of here tomorrow. Back at work in a month."

"A month. Isn't that fast?"

"No, I'll chill some at the campground, maybe play some tennis after a couple weeks, then I'll be back to work. Modern medicine."

A month later he was back like nothing had happened.

Maybe I'll still make it all the way to 65.

If I get some sun.

Friday Nights Out

Terry is a pisser. She's a tiny little lady who's almost sixty, looks almost fifty, and acts twenty-nine.

Friday night is her night on the ambulance. She does the 23:00 to 8:00 shift with Alan and Ken. I come in at 6:00 to relieve Alan.

She is having a friend and the friend's boyfriend over for lunch at her house.

"Terry's quite a wild woman," her friend tells the boyfriend. "She's married, but every Friday night she sleeps with other men."

"That's right," Terry says. "And tonight's my night out."

The boyfriend looks puzzled. "What does your husband think about that?"

"He wasn't happy at first, but he got used to it."

"You sleep with other men?"

"Usually two, another one comes in at six. The more the merrier I say."

Terry's son enters the room then.

"Ask my son," Terry says.

"What does your mom do on Friday nights?"

"Sleeps with other men," he says without missing a beat. He kisses her and wishes her a good day.

"She has a signup list. Maybe you can put your name on it."

"I occasionally have openings," Terry says, "But I think I'm booked for the next couple weeks. I do enjoy new partners."

The phone rings. Its Alan. "Hey," she says. "You bet we're on for tonight. " She says to the man. "One of my guys." Back into the phone. "I'll be there ready to ride at eleven o'clock. All night long if neccessary. You bet. Hold on a minute. There's a gentleman here who has a question for you." She hands the phone to the man. "As him if you want."

"What are you doing tonight?" he asks.

"Sleeping with Terry. Every Friday night," Alan says. "Though some nights we don't sleep at all."

"You've heard of the red light district," Terry says. "That's where I am every Friday night."