Time Cards
JD stepped out of the boarding house door and walked quickly across the dusty Four Corner's main street, sidestepping the horse offerings along the way. He doffed his hat to two pretty ladies as they passed on the boardwalk. Whistling, he opened the jailhouse door and stepped inside.
After carefully hanging his hat and coat on the peg behind the door, he walked over to the far wall.
Another day, another dollar, he sighed as he pulled his time card out of the metal rack on the wall.
Click-Ching.
JD pulled the yellow card out of the time clock. Uh oh. 8:02. He winced. Chris was going to see that. Oh, well. He replaced his card in the holder, laughing when he noticed the card right below his.
Wilmington, Buck.
The name had been typed meticulously on the card. But someone had scratched a line through 'Buck' and, in an uneven scrawl, replaced it with the word 'Stinky'. He chuckled. Had to be Vin.
There was a neon pink Post-It Note stuck to Ezra's card. Bold, black-Sharpie words written in Chris' precise hand. 'See Me After Work!'
Larabee was the only one without a time card. Being the boss and all, he was salary.
JD checked on the prisoner. The man was sleeping on his side, facing the wall, his bright orange jumpsuit glowing in the soft lamplight.
Hell, he was bored already. And if he got caught playing Spider Solitaire one more time, Chris was going to have his head. He guessed he could go out and hide behind the Marlboro billboard, pull over speeders, but his black and white, Paint, needed washing.
He could update his live-journal. Or, he could just sit back in his nice desk chair and scroll through the wanted posters on Pinkerton.net. Or, maybe he could check and see if there was any trouble brewing for Vin in the form of bounty hunters. Yep, just a quick click on his Favorites, and he could be surfing www.bountyhunterslookingforvin.com. But, it just didn't seem worth the effort, not today.
Can you have job burnout at nineteen? he wondered. He needed a vacation. Maybe he'd put in a request for a day off, and his commanding officer could sign it - as soon as he sobered up from his going-on-three day drunk. He sighed.
Suddenly, his shoulder radio squawked, and the sound of the dispatcher's distorted voice filled the room. **Calling all officers. Saloon fight. All available officers needed at the saloon-formerly-known-as-the-Standish-Tavern-and-now-currenly-without-name. Calling all officers.**
Dammit, JD huffed. Now he'd never get his memoirs written.
****
Two hours, and one long visit to Nathan Jackson's Clinic/Trauma Center, later and JD was back in the sheriff's office.
Bored. Bored. Bored. He didn't even have any new prisoners to lock up. Vin was deadly with that -thing- of his.
Sigh.
JD walked aimlessly around the office. Stopping in front of the cork bulletin board, he laughed at the new bumper sticker that had been pinned up - a picture of a peacemaker and a sawed off Winchester with the words 'We Don't Call 911' below it. Next to it, someone had pinned up Vin's Wanted poster. In pencil, that same someone, who just happened to be from the South, had sketched a mustache, a goatee, and Devil's horns on the Texan's likeness. Ezra seemed to be contemplating suicide more and more these days.
Bored. Bored. Bored.
Sighing, JD shook his head.
The Dime Novels never said there'd be days like this.
Donuts! That's it! He could run down to Inez's and grab some donuts.
Or...
He could just put his feet up on his desk, lean back in his chair, and- But, wait! He didn't get Health Insurance through the job and the good Lord knew that he would be needing it if he attempted any sort of daredevil moves in his desk chair... like... ah... leaning back.
Sigh.
Anyway.
Bored. He really needed to talk to the representative for the Local Peacekeepers Union 356. He had rights.
He sighed one more time, a long, drawn out sound that made him sound like he was three. Pouting, he narrowed his eyes, glaring at the window. He could hear Buck and Vin out there, talking, carrying on, having fun. Must be nice, he thought.
But, noooooo. He had to sit in the jail. Alone. By himself. Sulking.
Er... Working.
Yeah...
Sigh.
**SQUAWK** His radio surprised him. **Calling all Officers. Duel. Middle of the Four Corners Main Street.**
Whoo hoo! JD ran for the jailhouse door, tossing a glance at the time clock, noting his shift was almost over. Finally! Some action. And overtime! Maybe he'd ask Casey out to a flick this weekend.
The End