The Antique Crutch

Shortly after Donna and I were married, we took a drive out to Western Illinois.  We stopped at an antique shop outside of a small town.  After wandering through it – and finding nothing – we strolled outside and headed to the car.  Suddenly we heard shouts and yells from the store.  The door banged open and a man – running – burst out covering his head.   He was being chased and pummeled by another man with an antique crutch(!!).  Whack!  Whack!

Having no clue what to do – if anything – I yelled “YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!”  The two stopped – one in mid-swing – and turned toward me.   Like deer in the headlights.  I yelled and pointed “YOU – OVER THERE.  AND YOU – OVER THERE.”  The two parted and began telling me animatedly what the other had done (“he was. . . .” “no you were. . . .”).   A woman came out on the porch of a house – I pointed at her and yelled “YOU – CALL THE POLICE.”  She immediately popped back into the house.   The two men continued to explain to me whatever the issue was.  But I sensed they were starting to wonder – “who is this guy?”  

After a few minutes, and off in the distance, I saw a police car – emergency lights flickering – speeding down the road.  Under my breath I hissed to Donna “get in the car.”  She did.  And I calmly walked to the car got in and drove away – just as the police car pulled into the driveway.   I really had zero curiosity about staying – to find out how it all turned out. 

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