The Officer sat waiting…Waiting for a nemesis so abominable that it is difficult to describe. He sucked the crème out of a glazed doughnut, French roast gripped tightly in his hand. Name plaque pinned firmly to his somewhat wrinkled uniform. “Darrin” was written in cold black letters, letters reflecting the blackness of his heart. “This might just be the day”, he thought, ”The day my vengeance will be exacted…with extreme prejudice. “ He’d heard that once on a movie.
Flash back 30 years. Little Darrin sits quietly on the floorboards of his father’s ‘63 Nash Rambler, toy tractors and other pretend implements of husbandry clutched in his tiny little hands. Dreams of one day being a farmer swarmed through his head as the sedan swept down the highway. Suddenly, the vehicle screeched to an extremely slow pace. “Dag-nabbit”, yelled Darrin Junior’s father. “I strongly despise these blasted Almond shakers! They are always slowing traffic to a completely unreasonable speed! I’d even imagine that they would not be able to hear or yield to emergency vehicles, such as Police cruisers!” Little Darrin climbed on the seat and peered over the dash of the old Nash. That rhymes.
There in front of his father’s vehicle was a dilapidated almond shaker driving at approximately 10 miles per hour. It lumbered on, mile after mile. Little Darrin’s father’s rage reached a fevered pitch as they were delayed by the shaker for at least fifteen minutes. “That’s it! I hate all farmers and friends of people who are farmers. I even hate people who have one type of job and just wish that they were farmers!!! No son of mine will be associated with such ilk! Little Darrin, you will never be a farmer!!!...never be a farmer…never be a farmer…”
Flash forward to the modern day. Little Darrin grew to a man. Not any ordinary man, but a driven man, a man with a vengeance hidden deep within his dark heart. A vengeance shaped in the form of a dilapidated almond shaker. A vengeance hidden behind the badge pinned over his tractor-vengeance shaped heart. The badge meant something. It meant he could get revenge. Revenge on that old almond shaker that crushed his dreams of one day becoming a person who raises and provides nuts, such as almonds and walnuts, and pistachios, etc. Officer Darrin really likes nuts.
The day he had his badge pinned on his crisp new uniform was one of the darkest of his life. All of his friends were graduating farm school and receiving their barn door keys. His friends were enjoying their chickens and windmills. Officer Darrin would never know such joy. So still he waits, ever waiting. 20 years had passed, still waiting.
Officer Darrin watched the street. Could this be the street? Could this be the day? Suddenly, without warning, a tattered baseball cap crested the hill. The vehicle continued cresting the hill, revealing that the hat was being worn by a farmer. A dirty farmer. “Dirty farmers”, he thought. Then, Officer Darrin’s heart leapt as the vehicle emerged…it was…it was…an almond shaker! Not just any almond shaker, but the almond shaker. Approximately 100 cars crawled along behind the almond shaker, paralyzed and completely unable to pass. The farmer sneered as he wickedly laughed toward the heavens.
Officer Darrin’s hands sweat as they clutched the steering wheel. The powerful engine roared from within as he prepared for his attack. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.
The almond shaker passed and Officer Darrin quickly pulled in behind. He activated the overhead rollers and sounded his siren. No response. “It’s almost as if his enormous diesel engine is drowning out my siren.” Officer Darrin pulled up next to the battered implement of husbandry. “I’ll show you what’s shakin’…shaker.” He rammed the side of the shaker, but with little effect. The farmer laughed derisively and shook his fist. “You’ll never catch me Amigo! “ Officer Darrin winced, “Oh, no you didn’t.” Officer Darrin wedged the accelerator with his baton and slid to the passenger’s side seat.
Officer Darrin jumped onto the throbbing machine. The farmer yelled, “Aye Chihuahua! Es la Policia con una cinco cabeza!” The farmer recovered quickly and threw a round house kick at Officer Darrin’s head. Officer Darrin dodged the kick easily. “I took Tae kwon do for three summers at the YMCA. You’ll have to do better than that!” The farmer did better than that, throwing a handful of almonds in Officer Darrin’s eyes. “Aughhhhh!” The Omega three fatty acids burned his eyes as he reached for his plastic bottle of water, tucked safely in his bellow’s pocket. “Thank goodness we defeated the city council regarding their attempted ban on these babies” he thought as he poured the life saving environmentally unfriendly water into his chapped eyes.
“That’s it, hombre. You’ve slowed traffic for the last time!” The farmer held up a Mexican consulate identification card. He smiled and hissed, ”Diplomatic immunity.” Officer Darrin’s eyes widened, then closed to narrow angry black slits. “It’s just been revoked.”
Officer Darrin kicked the emergency break, sending the farmer careening over the steering wheel. The farmer clutched the front grill, slowly sliding into the clamps of the almond shaker. Officer Darrin rested his hand on the lever and pressed down. “Adios muchacho”. The shakers activated and shook the farmer roughly. “N-n-n-n-n-o-o-o-o-o-o- meg-g-g-g-g-gusta!”, was all the farmer could say before he slipped into oblivion.
Officer Darrin jumped down off of the cursed machine. He brushed off his uniform and unpinned his badge. He dropped the badge on the tattered form of the evil farmer. “Delay that…chump.”
Officer Darrin walked off into the sunset, leaving his old life behind. Thousands of women lined the street and wept as their dreams of marrying a real man evaporated with every step.
No one ever heard of Officer Darrin again. Some say he went to the mountains and became a sage. Others say that he went to Paradise, California and taught Pilates to the elderly. No one knows for sure. What we do know, is that the streets of our fair town are a safer place. Safer because of the man called “Officer Darrin”.
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Flash back 30 years. Little Darrin sits quietly on the floorboards of his father’s ‘63 Nash Rambler, toy tractors and other pretend implements of husbandry clutched in his tiny little hands. Dreams of one day being a farmer swarmed through his head as the sedan swept down the highway. Suddenly, the vehicle screeched to an extremely slow pace. “Dag-nabbit”, yelled Darrin Junior’s father. “I strongly despise these blasted Almond shakers! They are always slowing traffic to a completely unreasonable speed! I’d even imagine that they would not be able to hear or yield to emergency vehicles, such as Police cruisers!” Little Darrin climbed on the seat and peered over the dash of the old Nash. That rhymes.
There in front of his father’s vehicle was a dilapidated almond shaker driving at approximately 10 miles per hour. It lumbered on, mile after mile. Little Darrin’s father’s rage reached a fevered pitch as they were delayed by the shaker for at least fifteen minutes. “That’s it! I hate all farmers and friends of people who are farmers. I even hate people who have one type of job and just wish that they were farmers!!! No son of mine will be associated with such ilk! Little Darrin, you will never be a farmer!!!...never be a farmer…never be a farmer…”
Flash forward to the modern day. Little Darrin grew to a man. Not any ordinary man, but a driven man, a man with a vengeance hidden deep within his dark heart. A vengeance shaped in the form of a dilapidated almond shaker. A vengeance hidden behind the badge pinned over his tractor-vengeance shaped heart. The badge meant something. It meant he could get revenge. Revenge on that old almond shaker that crushed his dreams of one day becoming a person who raises and provides nuts, such as almonds and walnuts, and pistachios, etc. Officer Darrin really likes nuts.
The day he had his badge pinned on his crisp new uniform was one of the darkest of his life. All of his friends were graduating farm school and receiving their barn door keys. His friends were enjoying their chickens and windmills. Officer Darrin would never know such joy. So still he waits, ever waiting. 20 years had passed, still waiting.
Officer Darrin watched the street. Could this be the street? Could this be the day? Suddenly, without warning, a tattered baseball cap crested the hill. The vehicle continued cresting the hill, revealing that the hat was being worn by a farmer. A dirty farmer. “Dirty farmers”, he thought. Then, Officer Darrin’s heart leapt as the vehicle emerged…it was…it was…an almond shaker! Not just any almond shaker, but the almond shaker. Approximately 100 cars crawled along behind the almond shaker, paralyzed and completely unable to pass. The farmer sneered as he wickedly laughed toward the heavens.
Officer Darrin’s hands sweat as they clutched the steering wheel. The powerful engine roared from within as he prepared for his attack. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.
The almond shaker passed and Officer Darrin quickly pulled in behind. He activated the overhead rollers and sounded his siren. No response. “It’s almost as if his enormous diesel engine is drowning out my siren.” Officer Darrin pulled up next to the battered implement of husbandry. “I’ll show you what’s shakin’…shaker.” He rammed the side of the shaker, but with little effect. The farmer laughed derisively and shook his fist. “You’ll never catch me Amigo! “ Officer Darrin winced, “Oh, no you didn’t.” Officer Darrin wedged the accelerator with his baton and slid to the passenger’s side seat.
Officer Darrin jumped onto the throbbing machine. The farmer yelled, “Aye Chihuahua! Es la Policia con una cinco cabeza!” The farmer recovered quickly and threw a round house kick at Officer Darrin’s head. Officer Darrin dodged the kick easily. “I took Tae kwon do for three summers at the YMCA. You’ll have to do better than that!” The farmer did better than that, throwing a handful of almonds in Officer Darrin’s eyes. “Aughhhhh!” The Omega three fatty acids burned his eyes as he reached for his plastic bottle of water, tucked safely in his bellow’s pocket. “Thank goodness we defeated the city council regarding their attempted ban on these babies” he thought as he poured the life saving environmentally unfriendly water into his chapped eyes.
“That’s it, hombre. You’ve slowed traffic for the last time!” The farmer held up a Mexican consulate identification card. He smiled and hissed, ”Diplomatic immunity.” Officer Darrin’s eyes widened, then closed to narrow angry black slits. “It’s just been revoked.”
Officer Darrin kicked the emergency break, sending the farmer careening over the steering wheel. The farmer clutched the front grill, slowly sliding into the clamps of the almond shaker. Officer Darrin rested his hand on the lever and pressed down. “Adios muchacho”. The shakers activated and shook the farmer roughly. “N-n-n-n-n-o-o-o-o-o-o- meg-g-g-g-g-gusta!”, was all the farmer could say before he slipped into oblivion.
Officer Darrin jumped down off of the cursed machine. He brushed off his uniform and unpinned his badge. He dropped the badge on the tattered form of the evil farmer. “Delay that…chump.”
Officer Darrin walked off into the sunset, leaving his old life behind. Thousands of women lined the street and wept as their dreams of marrying a real man evaporated with every step.
No one ever heard of Officer Darrin again. Some say he went to the mountains and became a sage. Others say that he went to Paradise, California and taught Pilates to the elderly. No one knows for sure. What we do know, is that the streets of our fair town are a safer place. Safer because of the man called “Officer Darrin”.
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