OOPS
Starsky drew up in front of the Venice Place apartment building and tooted the
horn once to signal to Hutch that he was there.
He sat back and waited….and waited…and waited. He checked his watch
and saw that his partner was ten minutes late. He honked again. “Thirty
seconds or I hit the siren.” He said under his breath.
Moments later Hutch arrived and slipped into place beside his partner; he eyed
Starsky up and down.
“Wow; hey partner you look fantastic dressed like that.”
“You don’t look too bad yourself – but your tie is crooked.”
Starsky leaned over and adjusted Hutch’s tie for him. “You never did
learn to tie a neat knot did you?” He grinned and chortled at a memory.
“What?”
“I was remembering the time we had to present in uniform for the first time;
you looked like something the dog had been playing with in the back yard; Sergeant…what
was his name?...”
“Cooper.”
“Yeah, Cooper; he nearly had a fit when he saw you coming down the steps.”
Hutch smiled at the memory; he had spent about a half hour working out how to
attach the nightstick to his belt and ended up with it the wrong way up. Starsky,
with his army experience, was as neat as a pin.
Starsky continued. “I remember he asked you if you had ever had to put on
a uniform before; and you said ‘oh yes sir, when I was Sea Scout’
and all the other guys cracked up.”
Starsky started the engine and waited a second
while the Torino roared into life then he popped the gears and screeched away
from the sidewalk.
“Must you?” Hutch said in mock despair.
“Yep!”
Hutch wriggled in the seat – the uniform pants seemed unusually uncomfortable.
Starsky parked around the corner from the position
that they had been assigned for the parade.
A simple homecoming parade; a few floats, a pretty homecoming queen and the
High School band. Starsky started singing under his breath. “Seventy six
trombones….” Hutch glared at him. He immediately changed his pitch
and in a painful falsetto sang “don’t rain on myyyyyyy parade”.
Hutch clenched a fist and counted to ten under his breath. Starsky giggled.
“Aw c’mon Hutch get into the spirit of things – this is pure
Americana in action; I’ll bet you took part in a homecoming when you were
a kid.”
Hutch said nothing; he was remembering his homecoming
parade with nostalgia. He didn’t think Starsky would have taken part in
this kind of thing. “What about you?”
“Me? My homecoming was no parade buddy – unless you count the guys
who were escorting the body bags.” Hutch wished he’d never asked;
as usual Starsky’s face clouded when he thought of the waste of young
lives that he had been obliged to participate in.
The sound of approaching floats brought them both
to attention.
The first float passed then each of the others.
“So far, so good.” Hutch thought to himself.
The next float carried the football team and their pom-pom girls. One of the
girls dropped her watch as the float passed in front of Hutch. He started to
lean forward to retrieve it – hoping to give it back to her later. He
had forgotten that since the Academy he had gained more muscle. Too late! As
he leaned forward he heard the distinctive sound of fabric ripping; followed
by Starsky’s low whistle.
He straightened up and tried to sidle over to a
nearby store-front to see his reflection in the window. Starsky was grinning
from ear to ear.
“I love the underwear!” he said; the effort not to giggle had brought
tears to his eyes.
Hutch stopped in his tracks and tried desperately to remember what he underwear
he had pulled on in his panicked haste that morning. The truth was that when
Starsky tooted for the first time he was still saying a fond farewell to a pretty
Spanish airhostess who was on a twenty-four hour stopover before her flight
back to Madrid. He ran the scene through his mind and stopped to blush with
horror.
“No; please God, no.” He prayed as he came close to the window.
He stood with his back to the glass and peered over his shoulders…
Yes, there is was; the tell-tale lacy edging of the airhostess’s panties
was clearly visible through the fast-parting seam of his uniform pants.
He beckoned Starsky over to his side. “Stay
right behind me and we’ll go back to the car as discreetly as we can.”
“Discreetly.” Starsky repeated trying hard not to laugh. “As
discreetly as when you left me in the middle of a room with a rental label on
the back of my tuxedo and the back seam flapping open? Is that what you mean
by discreetly, Hutch?”
“Oh come on Starsk. That was an accident.”
“So was this.” Starsky pointed to Hutch’s rear. “But
at least I had a dress shirt under the jacket not pair of er…” he
peered at Hutch’s butt. “I’m no expert but I think they call
them bikini briefs.”
“You’re no expert!”
“Well, I’m used to seeing them on a pretty girl, if you see what
I mean. Hey that’s really expensive-looking lace by the way.”
“Shut up and help me.”
“Stay there, the parade’s gone; I’ll go get the car.”
Hutch stood as close to the wall as he could, ready to make a run when the Torino pulled up in front of him. He looked at the fully equipped belt and realized that running would be easier if he took it off this removing the unwieldy night stick.
The Torino drew up at the curb at a crazy angle about ten yards to his right; Starsky leaned over to open the passenger seat. He whistled the ‘all clear’.
Hutch started to run for the car; as he moved forward he regretted removing the belt. The rip in his pants had gone the length of the crotch-seam and without the belt as reinforcement the zipper and button couldn’t stand the strain. Hutch stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and blushed as his pants fell to his ankles revealing a pair of bikini cut pink and blue polka-dotted panties with a wide dark pink and black lace edging. The briefs were BRIEF and Hutch realized why he had been so uncomfortable sitting in the car earlier – the briefs left nothing to the imagination!
He shuffled to the car and swore that he would
get even with Starsky for not managing to control the car when he came to a
halt.
As he got into the car he saw the glint in his partner’s eye…he
had perfect control of the car!
As Starsky pulled away from the curb, Hutch spotted the pom-pom girl in the
side mirror. She was hugging herself and convulsed with laughter.
Starsky started to whistle the Streisand song again.
Hutch leaned back and sighed.