Damage Control HTML version

Timothy Gilbert
Damage Control
house was above the garage. Another two steps up led into another empty bedroom. Joe walked
through this bedroom only to find Officer Tom in the main upstairs hallway. Officer Tom had
checked all other rooms upstairs, so they headed back down to the closed bedroom door.
Officer Tom aimed the gun at the door and Joe fired it open. Two people under a white
bed sheet looked to be on top of one another. A college-age young man looked out from the bed
sheet, his face radiating complete rage over the ecstasy interruption. The naked young man,
excited sky high, climbed out of the bed and pulled a golf club from underneath. He completely
ignored Joe‟s loud announcement of who he and Officer Tom were. The next thing Joe knew, this
kid started charging him with the club, and he might have clobbered Joe over the head were it not
for Officer Tom shooting the ceiling as a warning. The young man halted, dropped the club, and
looked over at the bed where the woman he was with hid under the bed sheet.
“Who the hell are you?” he drunkenly slurred. The young man sported short, brown hair
and looked around 5‟11‟‟ and 170.
“Cool it son, I‟m detective Joe Costa!” Joe shouted. “Do you live here?”
Sitting down on the bed, the young man looked sheepishly up at Joe. When he didn‟t say
anything for a few seconds, Joe thought about asking the question again.
“Mom, we have company!” the young man suddenly shouted while reaching for his
Joe put his gun away, wondering why the boy had no problems shouting for his mother
with a naked girl in his bed.
“This isn‟t friggin‟ happening,” the deep voice said despairingly from under the bed
“Whoever is under the covers, please show yourself,” Joe said not so firmly, thinking
now that the voice didn‟t sound much like a woman.