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Writer's pictureRachel Gabel

This is Myrtle.

This is Myrtle. The officer was staying right on her heels and could almost get his hands on her. She could hear the radio chatter as the slow speed foot chase unfolded. This isn’t Chicago PD, afterall.

“Suspect is a middle aged female wearing last year’s jeans and a messy bun!”

Who is this guy anyway?

“Suspect is short and rather sturdy. She is a registered Republican. She is wearing sensible shoes.”

Well, that was oddly specific.

“Suspect likely spends too much time on The Pinterest and makes a mean carrot cake and drop biscuit.”

Well, he’s not wrong.



“Suspect is known to be highly irritable in school drop off lines, during delays at Sonic, and in retail establishments with her children in tow.”

Good grief.

“Suspect’s group chats were located. She’s a salty one, Chief. Approach with caution.”

Again…accurate.

“Suspect has noticeable dark circles under her eyes. It could be drugs, sir.”

She stopped and spun around to face him.

“Drugs??”

“Suspect is face to face with me, sir. She’s an angry one.”

“Angry? Of course I’m angry! I use the amount of Tide pods in one month the container says will last four! I can’t find my car tweezers, I’m tired of sweating, and the cost of groceries is higher than Snoop! I’m tired of overly dramatic political ads, deciding what to make for dinner, and looking for items that should be easy to locate! My chickens are molting, I need to make a Halloween costume for the girl child, and I’m so far behind at work that I need to start over.”

He moved closer.

“The book I used my Audible credit on sucks, but I’m too far in to quit now. My best friends all live far away, I need to go to The Walmart, and I haven’t a clue what to get anyone for Christmas.”

He reached slowly into his vest and produced a Snickers bar. He held it out to her like she was a wild animal.

It worked.



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