Mason Cops and Tims

 

Two Cops and a Donut

The sun blasted down, hard and hot. David Mason stood in line at the donut shop, humming a tune no one else could hear. He noticed things other people missed—the uneven crack in the counter tile, the way the guy in front of him tapped his foot exactly four times before stopping. The rhythm of life always had a pattern.

When David finally got his coffee, he stepped outside and saw two cops leaning on their cruiser. One was eating a donut with powdered sugar dusting his chin; the other looked like he was bored of everything, even chewing.

David tilted his head, observing the guy who’d been in front of him. Now in his car, carefully unwrapping his donut, oblivious. “You’re bored,” David said to the cops, his voice flat, factual. “Why not mess with that guy? Wreck his car. It’ll be funny.”

The powdered-sugar cop grinned, and the other snorted, tossing his donut into the box. “Why not?” one of them said.

David didn’t watch much after that. He saw enough to know it started with a baton tapping a taillight and a quick swing at a mirror. The guy tried to drive off, but you can see the video for how it went. David figured someone filmed it—people always did.

Tims and Toronto cops #timhortons #dayatthecops

Later, the cops leaned on their car, laughing loud enough to shake their bellies. The poor bastard stood a few feet away, staring at what was left of his car, holding his donut like it was all he had left in the world.

David sipped his coffee, turned, and walked away. “Patterns,” he muttered to himself. “Everything has patterns.” Behind him, the laughter rolled on, heavy as the heat.

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