By: Col. Brunhilda 'Iceberg' Buriman, ret.
Sorority Sister of Pi Loda Cum
Chapter Thirteen: Nite, Nite, Teddybears
Everything had quieted down considerably, and almost everyone had gone home, except for those on duty. McGuire too left earlier after finding Harrriette in such fit shape, considering. It was a little past midnight and the hospital subdued, for a Monday. Dude relaxed in a large chair located at the end of a hallway. He was in a small alcove, two doors away from the room in which Harriette was forced to stay the night. She'd finally, grudgingly, shed her clothes and had tucked her .357 under her pillow for the night. There was a uniformed officer on guard outside her door trying to ignore the slurping and slobbering sounds emanating from the room, where Litle and Sven were visiting.
Once the boys were with Harriette, and she'd calmed down as much as possible, the Chief left for the crime scene, or so he said. The Mayor admitted he was off to his favorite pub for a night cap, saying he'd keep in touch. Sven had arrived dressed as only he could, in a beige three piece suit of unwrinkled linen, which always amazed Harriette, a bright white shirt with a bright red tie that matched his shoes. Litle dressed in a powder blue paisley designed polyester Nehru jacket buttoned to his neck, with matching bell-bottoms and platform shoes. He came hungry for the syrup he's grown to need like a person who needs another cigarette. He was ready to munch, and munch-a-lot he did that night, while Sven bathed Harriette's body with a warm wet cloth from top to bottom, and afterwards served her small bits of goose liver pate on dry toast, and gulps of a strong German lager from a bottle, between a few well orchestrated orgasms, that kept a shit-eating grin on the guard's face.
Dude thought back to earlier that evening, to Harriette and the Chief. The poor guy had his hands full trying to make Harriette stay overnight, and the doctors were little help. Their argument was they needed to observe for a possible concussion, and monitor the healing of the gash in her arm caused by the bullet for at least the night. Harriette was one tough cookie and had no qualms about getting in someone's face, and so the Chief dangled a couple carrots in front of her.
The doctor and nurses who'd patched her up retreated when finished, quite tired of dealing with the irate female monster. On the emergency room table the best they could do was bare her one shoulder, and that was a struggle. Getting her to remove her holster and gun was impossible. Once finished with the patch they wheeled her to a room quickly and consigned her to the Chief and McGuire, hoping they could talk some sense into her. She refused to stay in bed.
"C'mon, babe, it's just one night. I promise we'll do something special once you're able," McGuire pleaded. "Just you and me. Leave the boys at home. Just one little night out of thousands."
"Jesus fukin' Christ, even YOU don't get it, McGuire, do you! Whose fukin' side are you on anyway," Harriette lashed out.
"I'll be just fine at home," Harriette roared at McGuire and Chief. McGuire had never seen Harriette like this. "Now, you two can either leave the room, or at least step aside." Harriette was in a bit of disarray, with her blouse unbuttoned to the holster's strap, her tights torn around the knee, her hair a mess, and the earlier morning stickiness had dried on her inner thighs giving her an itch rivaling the pain of her wound. She wanted to bathe, dine, and sit on Litle's face all at the same time.
"You give me no choice, Harriette," the Chief finally yelled out in frustration. You could see his frustration at having to deal with her in that manner, when he'd rather be at a tavern, or at his desk. "I'm ordering you to stay! And dat's, dat!" Still, Harriette all but ignored him.
"Like hell, Chief," she said in a low serious voice, standing a bit uneasily to face him with her chest held out to him like a marine, after an all night drinking spree. "Now, if you'd please move..." she said as if daring him not to. As usual the Chief finally had enough. So had McGuire, who left the hospital deciding he'd done all he could. It was enough for him to find Harriette in such good spirits. He felt his presence only agitated his beloved Harriette. The Chief continued.
"Harriette, I'm not playin' damn it! The doctors think it's best you stay the night and dat's exactly what you're gonna do. Ya got part of your shoulder shot off and ya might have a concussion..." He brought his face close to hers and said through heavy breaths of stale cigar leaf, "...and since you're being so damned stubborn 'bout the whole thing I, only heaven knows why, have arranged a surprise..." Harriette backed off some, gagging to the stench.
"Chief," she choked out. "Will ya get a better brand?"
