All characters are over 18.
Officer Rod, booked me way back in the 80's. He was a pathetic individual and a blemish to intelligent Policeman everywhere. The story takes place in a small Australian town.
*****
Officer Rod hated the bush. Nothing happens, no murders, no investigations, no big operations. Just boring country people, banging on about John Deere tractors, Headers, wheat, and of course, the price of wool. Wool was very important in this part of Australia.
Fucking Crows, black as shit, mocking him with their "AAAARRk, AAARRk," sitting on the power lines, watching him, teasing him...'If you hadn't "FAAArrrked" up you'd be back in Melbourne'. In Melbourne, there is real police work, proper Detective work. 'FAAArrk, you're a loser' they screeched at Officer Rod.
Life as a country Cop was boring. Boring, dull and monotonous. In winter, it was cold and wet, in summer it was hot. Summer was really hot and really dry. Rod liked the summer, there could be a bushfire and a fire would involve the police, a bushfire gave Rod something to do. Officer Rod was important during bushfire season.
The powerful Ford, all clean and shiny, stationary behind the toilet block. Officer Rod had the window down, ready with the radar gun. Big V8 rumbling at idle, cop radio on, the heater blasting -fighting the cold morning. It was cold, frosty cold, see your breath cold, nose dribbling cold. Winter brought out the skiers, the skiers ignored the speed limits. Rod sat and waited. Nothing about but sheep, trucks, cars, kangaroos and the noisy fucking crows. Rod talked to himself, "I fucking hate being up at dawn, its fucking cold. Fucking skiers, driving way too fucking fast. Fucking wankers with all their fucking money. Fuck it's cold."
The radar beeped, he'd got one. Rod hit the sirens, they were loud. He'd clocked the car at 120. It was a local, a local cocky's kid in a Ute. Officer Rod's wheels spun in the wet gravel, they bit the bitumen, they left rubber on the road. The kid in the Ute still hadn't seen the two blue lights, hadn't heard his sirens. Going quicker than the kid, Rod quickly pushed up his arse, the kid eventually twigged, there was a cop on his tail. The kid slowed. Rod killed the siren. He left the lights on, blinking blue flashes bouncing off anything that would reflect. Rod strolled towards the kid in the Ute. He took his time. He adjusted his gun belt. It was loaded with his cuffs, his baton and a well loved Smith and Wesson. The gun wasn't necessary, he knew the kid. There'd be no trouble.
The kid was a handy footballer, his dad was a hot shot cocky. The dad ran sheep on a very large property, about 5000 acres. Big wool cheques. He'd bought his son the big Ute for his 18th. He bought it new, apparently he paid cash. Cockies dominated this part of the world. The 80's were good for sheep, these guys were pulling in plenty of coin.
The window wound down, cigarette smoke and Stairway to Heaven poured out. "Ben, slow down you idiot. I got you over 120."
"Morning, Officer Rod." A cheeky grin. Rich and young, his whole life ahead, future looks good. He'll inherit the farm, he'll be a cocky one day.
"It's Sergeant, you little shit, now slow the fuck down." Ben looked like he'd had a good night, grey bags under his eyes and hickeys spotted his neck. He'll be in trouble when his mum sees him.
"You're not going to book me?"
"No mate, just a warning, it's dawn and there's Roo's about. You fucking well know better. I don't want to be scraping your sorry arse off the road. Tell your dad that Officer Rod let you off with a warning, tell him next time it's a ticket."
"Thanks Sarg', I'll let Dad know. I'll see you at footy training. I've gotta fly, I'm running late. Josie wouldn't leave me alone this morning. She calls me the wombat, you know - eats, roots and leaves." Ben laughed at his own joke, Rod didn't even smile. "I'm late, Dad's gunna kill me, there's frost. We could've lost a heap of lambs last night."
"Ben, you stayed at Josie's last night? When's her parents back?" Rod asked.
"Another week, I guess. I'm sure you'll be pleased to see Josie's Mum, I know she just cant wait to see you. " Ben flicked the butt into an icy roadside puddle. He took off with a laugh, a growl from the V8 and a scream from Led Zeppelin.
Rod watched as a big mob of 'Roos bounded through the adjacent paddocks, their chunky tails outstretched for balance. Kangaroos, another example of how evolution got a bit fucked up in Australia. Brainless animals, nothing higher up the food chain, just trucks, cars and cocky's Utes to keep their numbers down. Make a big mess when you hit one.
Rod killed the lights and drove back to the toilet block. One of his best spots, he hid the Ford beside the dunnies where the traffic can't see him until it's too late. The toilet block is part of a roadside barbeque area, about 10 minutes from town. Rod had the local council remove the graffiti and keep the place spick and span. The toilets inside were new, shiny stainless steel with little yellow tablets floating in the urinal. It's a great place to catch the Melbourne people on the way to the snow. Must be something about skiing, skiers always drove way too fast.
The older locals called the new Sergeant, Rod or sometimes officer Rod. He made the kids and the blokes at the Footy Club call him Sarg, or Sergeant. Rod liked a bit of respect. The skiers had named him 'Double Bubble Trouble'. Rod's police Ford Falcon was the first pursuit car in the state with two blue lights. When you hit those lights at night, the sky lit up. Rod was the only cop in town, a single man station with a residence attached. It was a loser's job, a sideways, out of sight out of mind. Rod was too good for the job, too good for the country. Rod was a city cop. Rod should be busting scum in the city.
Rod aimed the radar at an oncoming Volvo. He smiled as the car exceeded the limit. "Here we go again, a Volvo wagon, fucking flying, a set of skis on the roof. A chick driving." Rod hit the double blue lights, sirens screaming, he took off in pursuit. Gravel sprayed, the tyres bit the bitumen. He caught up to the Volvo. The Volvo pulled over. Rod just knew she would be cute.
"She's on her own, not a local, this could be fun." Rod said to no one in particular. Rod hitched up the gun belt, adjusted his hat and sauntered over to the Volvo. Legs spread like he'd got of a horse, or his balls were too big. Rod leered into the open driver's window. She was young. Young and very cute.
"Morning missy, stay in the car. Licence please." Not a question, an order. Her tits filled that pale pink sweater nicely. She was tasty, lots of blue eye shadow and large shoulder pads. The shoulder pads made her tits look even more generous. He wanted to have a go at something as hot as this, try his luck, and see how much she wanted to avoid a ticket. Rod calculated how pointy her nipples would get when that sweater came off, he held his thumb an inch away from his forefinger.
Rod took her license back to his Ford. He took his time and radioed in the licence and rego' details, it all checked out. Car registered to her mum, same address. Armadale, one of Melbourne's better suburbs. A cute rich girl, with big tits in her mum's warm Volvo.
