“I want to report that my grandson’s bicycle was stolen from my house,” I told the policeman at the desk.
At that time a man stumbled into the police station with tears running down his face.
“Excuse me,” the policeman said to me. Then he said, “Sir, all you all right?”
“No,” the man sniffled. “My wife went to the city yesterday and hasn’t come home.”
“How tall is she?”
“I’m not really sure,” the man said. “Maybe five feet or five feet six inches.”
“How much does she weigh?”
“I don’t know. She’s not skinny but she’s not real fat.”
“What color are her eyes?”
“Uh. . . I never really noticed.”
“What color is her hair?”
“Well, she seems to change it about twice a year. Maybe reddish-brown.”
“What was she wearing?”
“Either a dress or shorts. I’m not really sure.”
“Which water taxi did she take”
“She didn’t take a water taxi. She took my boat.”
“What kind of boat was it?”
“It was a brand new Mexican lanchon, white with blue and red trim and a 115 horsepower four-stroke inline four cylinder engine. It has computerized multiport fuel injection and a separate throttle valve for each intake runner with double overhead camshafts and four valves to a cylinder and . . .”
At this point the man choked up and couldn’t say anything more.
“Don’t worry, sir,” the policeman said to him. “We’ll find your boat.”
Share
Read more
