The Biscuit

 The Biscuit

  

My third shift meal break was scheduled for 3:30 in the morning and I was more than ready for it. It had been an unusually active Wednesday night on the “graveyard shift”, so I hadn’t had time to take a break since it started.  I had been on one stupid call after another all night.  Nothing had been very interesting, just the usual domestic complaints and a couple of fender-bender traffic accidents.

Now it was 3:20AM and I was as hungry as a starving wino. The radio traffic had finally quieted down some, so I headed toward the huddle house on High Point Road to get me a “Big Boy” breakfast.  I groaned aloud as my radio crackled and the dispatcher said, “Car 420, are you near to I-40?”  My stomach wanted me to lie, but my conscience would not let me. Thinking that the dispatcher must be psychic, I pressed the talk button and said, “Car 420, I just drove under I-40 on High Point Road”. After a brief pause, she told me to swing back on I-40 East bound and see if I can find a car off the road in the bushes. It should be between High point Road and Randleman Road.  I acknowledged with the obligatory 10-4 that probably sounded a little grumpy. I get grumpy when I’m hungry...

Please order this complete e-book http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=William+T.+Moyer