Meredith's Fan Fiction Homepage
Below you will find my response to the following challenge:
Disclaimer: Yes, I know they don't really do any good, but I feel obliged to say it anyway. I don't own any of the characters involved in these stories. I'm just borrowing them for a short while.
"Don't go glarin' at my camera," Vin said, catching his breath. "Already have the film on it's way to bein' developed."
"It's not funny, Vin" Chris growled, hands clenching in frustration and anger. It wasn't bad enough that Travis had somehow talked him into doing this for charity, but then Vin had showed up with some of the kids from his apartment… and a camera. "I want the pictures burned and I want the negatives."
"Sorry, Chris," Vin replied not sounding sorry at all. "So, tell me, how many clowns can they get in that little bitty pink flowered car?"
Speechless. Ezra was speechless.
"Isn't that Vin?" JD asked in a hushed voice.
"Sure is," Buck replied in an equally awed voice.
"That's a Rolls Royce, isn't it?" Nathan asked.
"Yep," Josiah responded as the car in question pulled to a stop and a liveried chauffeur stepped out to open the back door for Vin.
The young sharpshooter exited the car, exchanging a few words with the chauffeur before turning toward his friends.
"Is that an Armani suit?" Chris asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Boys," Vin said, nodding his head toward the group. "I got somethin' I need ta tell ya."
"You've really been a lot of places," Casey said in wonder. She was doing a report on an area of Africa that Josiah had visited and wanted some first-hand opinions.
Josiah smiled down at the young woman. "Yes, I had a wandering youth," he admitted.
"Do you have any pictures?" she inquired.
"In fact, I do," Josiah responded. "Just let me get them.
The two spent some time over Josiah's pictures. When she turned a page, her hand froze and her mouth dropped open. After several minutes she found her voice. "Josiah," she asked, "Is that you riding an ostrich?"
"That was an awesome race!" JD exclaimed as the winning Indy car crossed the finish line.
"They're amateurs," Buck scoffed, giving JD a hard time. It had been an incredible race. The top cars had hit almost 200 miles per hour – very high speeds for professionals, let alone amateurs.
"Here it is," JD said excitedly, "They're announcing the winner. Can't wait to see who it is."
The two men sat in their living-room stunned, jaws hanging open, unable to believe their eyes. On the winner's stand, stood Nathan Jackson of ATF Team 7, the most cautious driver in the department.
I am doing this to ensure the safety and security of the people of this state, Ezra repeated to himself again. He sat stuck in traffic, his teeth gritted until jaws ached, and honestly contemplated whether or not killing Chris for putting him in this predicament would really be considered murder.
He tried thinking of his Jag and the great joy he would have when he slipped behind the wheel. He thought of its smooth handling and gentle ride. A definite difference from the beast he was driving now. The Oscar Meyer Weiner Mobile handled like a stubborn cow.
He sighed. The things he did for his friends. He supposed it was a good thing the only women around were 4 year old girls, but still…
He tried to think how he got stuck being inspector at Saftey Town. He remembered Chris saying in the meeting that each of them would have to sign up for some sort of community service and all of the boys rushing to get the best pick. Somehow he had missed out on everything and ended up with this.
With a sigh, he turned his Big Wheel down another "street" and watched his class.
"Not a word, Buck. Not a word," JD threatened his best friend. It had been humiliating enough to be taken hostage at the bust, but then the "vile cretins", as Ezra would say, had taken his clothes, leaving him only with his boxers. He would have walked, except he had sprained his ankle and it wouldn't support him.
Buck bit his lip trying to suppress his laughter. The boys would never believe him without proof. Then again, maybe they would.
Sliding of his mount and supporting himself against Buck, JD let the cow wander back to its pasture.
"Explain to me again why we're doing this?" Ezra demanded, adjusting his balance.
"I already told you, Ez," Buck said patiently. "It was either these or the tiny cars. These have at least a little dignity."
"Don't want to hear it," Chris said. He'd already fallen twice, much to his team's amusement. Vin, JD and Josiah seemed to be naturals; a fact which only increased his frustration.
"Settle down, Chris," Nathan cautioned, avoiding Chris' wobbling path.
You will pay for this, Standish, Chris thought for about the thousandth time. He knew, rationally, that it wasn't Ezra's fault. The case had come to his team while the undercover agent was recovering from an injury.
Turning down yet another tree-lined street, he popped two aspirin and tried to focus on toning down his glare.
Seeing the crowd gather at the side of the road, he pulled over and shifted into park. Moving to the window on the side, he heard the cheers that had followed him every day for the past three weeks: "It's the good humor man!"