Going Around The Bend (Bootneck Threesome Book 3) by Mark Time

Going Around The Bend (Bootneck Threesome Book 3) by Mark Time

Author:Mark Time [Time, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Smashed Plate
Published: 2016-04-28T22:00:00+00:00


’Men worry more about the things they can’t see than the things they can’

~ Julius Caesar, Emperor

As pioneers of ‘police station vacations’ we headed straight to La Crosse Police HQ. They hooked us up and were extremely informative on the local attractions. However, a less friendly officer ordered us to move the RV to the next bay as we’d parked in his. So we moved. The good cop from the good cop bad cop duo asked us to move the RV again as we were now in his spot. This was fine, he was clearly embarrassed about his colleague’s directness and the arseing about they had caused. Fitz reversed the RV round again. Whether it was in his impatience to get the RV parked as soon as possible or whether he was deliberately aiming for the bad cop’s car wasn’t clear. What was clear was the smashed indicator light of the bad cop’s nice shiny motor, in full view of the good cop. Grimacing like he’d just sucked a lemon, Fitz looked forlornly at the gobsmacked police officer with a ‘you won’t tell him, will you?’ expression. He looked a little sheepish himself, after all, it was he who asked us to park next to the bad cop’s car, admittedly he said ‘next to’ not ‘in to’, but that was a mere technicality. He could play it a number of ways, but to his eternal credit, after the shock of seeing us trash the car, he himself started chuckling. His joy became rather falsely infectious as we imitated his chuckle, offered when pride is exchanged for sycophancy. It appeared they were the best of enemies and as our RV had no mark, he would cover for us. Disappointingly, he declined to our request to screech around the car park to leave a rainbow of burning tyre marks, while smashing the hell out of the whole motor pool as if in an episode of Starsky & Hutch (with me wearing Starsky’s knobbly buttoned cardigan).

Once voted the best small city in the US, La Crosse felt quite bohemian and reminded me somewhat of Greenwich Village in New York. Here though, we didn’t have the pleasure of overtly camp transvestites with 6 o’clock shadows dressed in purple velour catsuits and 6” heels elevating them to 7ft tall. The downtown shopping district looked authentic film set America - streets of flat-roof chocolate-bricked buildings sporting faded signs rounded corners to identical avenues where dusty square windows upon high hid the dirty secrets of storeroom neglect. Despite the skyline being long since forgotten, at foot level things were more energetic.

The humid evening was lively to the scene of people, young and old, milling around the streets browsing expensive antique furniture shops windows, small art galleries and bric-a-brac stores selling ‘exclusive’ wares that looked strikingly similar to ones sold in Bemidji, but with La Crosse being a stop off for the paddle steamer tourists the prices were slightly inflated.

We followed a concentration of people towards the river.



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