Chapter 1

<What is your problem?>

I’m bored.

<Gods above! You know what the trouble is?>

“No. What?” Oops. “Sorry Officer, Talking to myself.”

“Sign here. Initial here. Here. Here. And here,” said the Trooper, flipping pages on the report. “Talking to yourself? Are you polite about it?”

“Polite?”

“It’s only polite to respond when spoken to,” that said with a quivering lip but a serious face and tone. For 30 seconds the officer retained his calm demeanor ... but just.

The patrol cop broke into hearty laughter.

I stared for just a bit. The details required for stopping at the scene of an accident are only exceeded by the paperwork involved if one actually was the “First one on the Scene” and helped. Helping save a life.

<Letting the poor bastard die would have been simpler.>

“True, but that would have condemned the daughter to a fiery death.”

“What?” asked the cop.

“I was contemplating the consequences of not stopping, officer.”

He looked over at next years centerfold Playmate of the Year contest winner ... if she had been a contestant.

“That would have been criminal,” he said, while gazing at that piece of feminine perfection.

That piece of perfection was a mess ... clothes torn, bloody all over, sure to have a massive bruise from the seatbelt ... but the beauty was unmistakable.

Beauty is an odd thing. There is such a thing as average features. It is very seldom that the sum total of average is composed of every feature. Ears neither too big or too small ... average. Forehead neither too high or too low. The perfect nose, cheek, lip. The chin neither square nor pointed ... the face ... average ... but average in all it’s parts is perfection. If anything could be considered wrong it would be her breasts ... they were too large for her diminutive frame. Three more inches in height and they would have fit ... four more inches and they would be too small. She had the bubble butt and nicely formed hips of an eighteen year old.

Prime ... the girl was prime.

She was being sorely put upon by a tall gawky female of indeterminate age and sour visage. The harridan was shaking her finger under the beautiful nose, when the impossible happened.

She bit it.

The reaction was an openhanded blow, and no doubt about it, I wasn’t having any of that. Unaware as to HOW I was in time to stop a second slap, I took it on my cheek.

There was true anger in that blow ... that blow was out of control. That blow ... and the previous one ... were on nation wide television as an example of how far Social Services had progressed since the Indians were removed from their purview.