The Thanksgiving Message You Were Expecting

by pjmcbride

Right? But first…

Last night I took an alarm call where the location of the alarm was “the door to the robot shop.” Really? Some place in town makes robots? “What kind of robots?” A.J. wanted to know. Killer robots, surely! Aren’t they the only kind worth bothering about? Well, maybe the kind of robots that take your job also deserve our concern. Especially if they take your job by killing you. And what do robots need jobs for, anyway? They don’t need to eat. (Was the Thanksgiving message you were expecting about robots, by any chance?) Anyway, the alarm was canceled, presumably by robots.

A.J. last night: “If I ever become a serial killer, I want the media to call me the 911 Hangup Killer.” How about the 911 Hangup Killer Robot? I know, the 911 Hangup Zombie Killer Robot!

Note to Mercenary Mike, henceforth to be known as Spider Man: That’s the bonus of a spider attack–you can’t just brush them off. Does whatever a spider can….


Pain pills, presumably. Yes, he had to undergo a small….procedure. The first step involved a tranquilizer dart–always necessary when dealing with an attack-trained beast of this sort. (Beforehand, he told me, “I’ll dream of our ride-along in my drug-induced state.” Rom said, “The only way he’ll get you to go on a ride-along is in his dreams.” Rom knows what he’s talking about, so I’m glad that’s settled.) But Nick’s brain on drugs started with a grandiose fantasy of dragging me out of the squad car by the hair, and ended up with a paranoid delusion that his owner was plotting against him, which led to his huddling under his bed with the family dog. Very sad. But never fear, the scars will eventually fade, and he’ll be back to guard duty, preparing meals, etc. By the way, Rom had surgery right before Thanksgiving 2 years ago, and he MADE THANKSGIVING DINNER ANYWAY, so don’t let Nick be a slacker. Of course, Rom was on drugs at the time, too. I remember after my surgery 10 years ago, I argued with the nurse that I wouldn’t pass out the first time I tried to get out of bed like she told me I would. I turned out to be lying. It also goes to show that I can argue even when I’m on morphine.


–the opportunity to be in my bathrobe all day. Of course, this isn’t the only day I do this all year.

I Am Not a Serial Killer

I Am Not a Serial Killer (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

–an interesting job and entertaining co-workers

–a couple of cuddlesome cats, especially my Funny Valentine, Esmerelda (born on Valentine’s Day!)

–and the AMAZING ROM.