[Original: Drabble] "Turn It Down" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: Turn It Down
Prompt: writerverse challenge #16 july table, prompt #06 ‘get out of here’
Word Count: 513
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke and Howell get called in for a noise complaint.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Turn It Down
There was usually someone at any given call-out who was relieved to have the cops show up. Usually, it was the person who had called for us in the first place, and usually with an “Oh, thank goodness you’re here, officers, now you deal with this.”
Which was pretty much the attitude held by the super of the apartment building we were called to, barely fifteen minutes after we’d begun our shift.
“Fifty-seven D,” he said, shoving a key at Howell. “Lady is nuts. I got seventeen noise complaints, just tonight! I give my permission for you to enter, search- hell, arrest the crazy broad, if you can manage it!”
“I didn’t know people still used the term ‘broad’,” I said, as Howell and I took five flights of stairs up to the women’s apartment.
We could hear the noise as we entered the second floor, but it took until the fourth for it to resolve into something recognizable, a piece of classical music I knew but couldn’t name. Howell knocked sharply on the door of apartment 57D, loud enough to be heard over the noise/music.
“Get lost!” shouted a voice from inside.
I raised my voice, too. “Ma’am, this is the police! Are you all right!?”
“Don’t need no police!” the woman yelled back. “Get out!”
“Ma’am,” said Howell, this time. “Your neighbors are becoming concerned. I need you to at least come to the door, so I can see that you’re all right.”
“No!”
I looked at my partner, who held up the apartment key. “Ma’am!” I called. “We’re coming inside. Just let us see that you’re okay, and we’ll leave.”
“You can leave now!” she hollered.
Howell opened the door, and we went inside. It was neater than I expected, decorated in the floral prints/lace doilies/ceramic figurines style typical of single older ladies, and the noise was coming from an ancient stereo system on a side table.
I shut it off, and there was a sudden, ringing silence.
“Hey!” cried the voice. “I was listening to that.”
On the other side of the apartment, there was a narrow open doorway and beyond, and older woman lying in bed, bandaged ankle propped on a pile of embroidered pillows.
“Huh,” she said. “You really are cops.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Howell. He had a special talent for dealing with older people, ladies especially, probably because he was simultaneously one of them and also a ‘nice young man’. “And I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you not to play your music so loud.”
She frowned. “But they player’s in the living room, and I need my rest.”
Judging by the dust, her ‘player’ hadn’t been touched in decades, but Howell and I managed to get it moved to the top of her dresser, this time playing at a normal volume.
“Thank you, officers,” she said, easily heard over the soft tones of classical music.
“Anytime, ma’am,” I said, and we let ourselves out. “She is a crazy broad,” I added.
My partner snorted, and I chose to believe it was a laugh.
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow
Prompt: writerverse challenge #16 july table, prompt #06 ‘get out of here’
Word Count: 513
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke and Howell get called in for a noise complaint.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Turn It Down
There was usually someone at any given call-out who was relieved to have the cops show up. Usually, it was the person who had called for us in the first place, and usually with an “Oh, thank goodness you’re here, officers, now you deal with this.”
Which was pretty much the attitude held by the super of the apartment building we were called to, barely fifteen minutes after we’d begun our shift.
“Fifty-seven D,” he said, shoving a key at Howell. “Lady is nuts. I got seventeen noise complaints, just tonight! I give my permission for you to enter, search- hell, arrest the crazy broad, if you can manage it!”
“I didn’t know people still used the term ‘broad’,” I said, as Howell and I took five flights of stairs up to the women’s apartment.
We could hear the noise as we entered the second floor, but it took until the fourth for it to resolve into something recognizable, a piece of classical music I knew but couldn’t name. Howell knocked sharply on the door of apartment 57D, loud enough to be heard over the noise/music.
“Get lost!” shouted a voice from inside.
I raised my voice, too. “Ma’am, this is the police! Are you all right!?”
“Don’t need no police!” the woman yelled back. “Get out!”
“Ma’am,” said Howell, this time. “Your neighbors are becoming concerned. I need you to at least come to the door, so I can see that you’re all right.”
“No!”
I looked at my partner, who held up the apartment key. “Ma’am!” I called. “We’re coming inside. Just let us see that you’re okay, and we’ll leave.”
“You can leave now!” she hollered.
Howell opened the door, and we went inside. It was neater than I expected, decorated in the floral prints/lace doilies/ceramic figurines style typical of single older ladies, and the noise was coming from an ancient stereo system on a side table.
I shut it off, and there was a sudden, ringing silence.
“Hey!” cried the voice. “I was listening to that.”
On the other side of the apartment, there was a narrow open doorway and beyond, and older woman lying in bed, bandaged ankle propped on a pile of embroidered pillows.
“Huh,” she said. “You really are cops.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Howell. He had a special talent for dealing with older people, ladies especially, probably because he was simultaneously one of them and also a ‘nice young man’. “And I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you not to play your music so loud.”
She frowned. “But they player’s in the living room, and I need my rest.”
Judging by the dust, her ‘player’ hadn’t been touched in decades, but Howell and I managed to get it moved to the top of her dresser, this time playing at a normal volume.
“Thank you, officers,” she said, easily heard over the soft tones of classical music.
“Anytime, ma’am,” I said, and we let ourselves out. “She is a crazy broad,” I added.
My partner snorted, and I chose to believe it was a laugh.
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow