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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The NYC. Detective strolled into his little office that once had been a janitors supply closet in an elementary school . It was converted into a police station after the school had found a more suitable spot to try and teach those unteachable little darlings from this neighborhood. The cops were cruising around here most of the time anyway. It just made sense to the higher ups to operate from here, and besides, it fit into the limited budget. There was talk that next year we might even get a janitor. Till then we would hoe out our own cubicles. The name plate on the painted peeling door read Detective Sgt. Bill Lipton. NYCPD. Looking around he could see it was much the way he left it before heading out for a much needed two week vacation. The tarnished coffee perculator was against the back white washed wall on a bench where he dreamed there’d be a window some day. Ahh.. It didn’t matter, he didn’t spend much time in here anyway. All… or at least most of the crimes were happening outside these walls and he spent most of his time in the middle of that. One picture of his partner decorated the wall; a police Warm Blood horse he named “Red Neck”. Bill toured a Central Park beat on Red Neck . Actually it was relaxing to work the beat on his trained horse as a mounted police officer...most of the time. Continued as a part in unison with Richard Picketts Shogun/Samauri Stories on his site by his permission. -to be continued-
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