“Collared”

by Pepper Ckua

 

Starsky was trapped. He had spent close to three hours trying to extract himself from his prison and was no closer to freedom than he was at the beginning of his struggles. His back hurt from frantic twisting and the tips of his fingers were sore. Alone in the parking lot, he sat down again on the curb.

 

At first, his problem hadn’t seemed that serious. He’d waved the last of the teachers home, wanting privacy before he changed and headed for his car. Fifteen minutes later, he realized the seriousness of his situation. By then, it was too late to use the phone in the school. Even the bank across the street was closed. Starsky thought this was just as well; simply entering the lobby would certainly get him arrested for attempted robbery. His appearance would see to that.

 

He thought about picking up the mic in the Torino and calling for assistance. Perhaps Mildred would give him a break and disguise the code? Starsky thought “officer down” would evolve into “down, boy, down’ later at Metro. That certain humiliation meant no call to Dispatch.

 

Or he could incur the wrath of his captain and go after himself with a sharp instrument? The problem was there was no way to make that work until he got home and found a knife.

 

It seemed his best bet was to get into the Torino and drive to his place. Surely it beat standing around a school parking lot any longer.

 

One more frustrated ten-minute struggle left him exhausted and angry; he was trapped like a rat in a cage.

 

He picked the duffel up off the picnic table and headed over to his car.

 

It took Starsky a moment to maneuver himself into the driver’s seat, awkwardly fumbling with the constraints on his body. He had to scrunch down slightly in the seat to be able to see out the front and cursed at how big his head felt.

 

The final indignity was accidentally closing the door on his tail.

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Hutch felt the burn. He loved the glorious rhythm of the punching bag; the percussion of it pumped him up. Sometimes when he really got going, he forgot he was at Vinnie’s. He couldn’t tell where his head went, but it wasn’t a sweaty gym on 4^th Street.

 

“Hey, Ken!” Vinnie’s gravelly voice brought him back down. “There’s someone outside asking to see you. Looks like one of your weird snitches.”

 

“How’d he know I was here?”

 

“Got me, though parking your ugly car right by the back door might have been his first clue.”

 

Hutch pulled his boxing gloves off and wiped his face. He draped the towel over the back of his neck and leaned down to get a drink from the fountain on the wall. The water tasted like iron. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he asked, “Am I going to recognize this guy?”

 

“Ken, there’s no way I’m speculatin’ on your street stoolies, but I’ll say there’s no way you’re gonna miss this fellow,” Vinnie said, laughing as he picked up some dirty towels.

 

Hutch just gave him a raised eyebrow and stepped out the back door. The light over the stoop shone moodily into the parking lot.

 

“Hey, anyone out here? You looking for me?” Hutch asked as he made his way over to the husky figure standing just to the left of the murky cone of light.

 

“Hutch?”

 

Hutch recognized his partner’s voice.

 

“Starsk? What’s going on? Vinnie said there was a snitch out here to see me.”

 

Starsky stepped into the light.

 

Hutch gasped.

Then laughed.

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“It’s not funny!”

 

“Yes it is.”

 

“No, it’s not. I’m in a lot of trouble.”

 

“For what? For tipping over the neighbor’s trashcans? Going after Mrs. Leary’s cat?”

 

“Shut up and help me, would you?”

 

“Help you do what? Run after cars?”

 

“Would you just stop it and get me out of this thing?

 

“Tried the zipper?”

 

“Of course, I tried the zipper, Einstein. I’ve been trying the damn zipper for hours. It’s stuck.”

 

Hutch reached over and gave a yank on Starsky’s head.

 

“Ouch! Hey, knock it off! It’s attached to the rest of the outfit.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Well, at least that’s one of us. I can hardly see with this thing on. Driving was an absolute mistake. I was gonna head home and call you from there, but between the dark and this stupid head, I can hardly see a thing. Besides the thought of someone seeing the Torino being driven by a … Christ, just forget it.” Starsky took a deep breath.  “I saw your car here at Vinnie’s and decided I better stop before I got in a wreck, an ironic possibility considering my current persona.”

 

 Hutch reached over and opened up the front door of his car. He pushed Starsky in. “Let me grab my stuff, and I’ll be out is a sec.”

 

“Roll the window down a little, would you? The heat’s gettin’ to me.”

 

“Sure I will, pal. It will also give you the opportunity to put your head out the window while I drive, maybe even let your tongue hang out.”

 

Starsky hit him with one furry paw and pulled the door shut.

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“So, you want to tell me what this is all about? I mean, I thought you were bowling tonight.” Hutch was trying to work the zipper while Starsky was sitting at his kitchen table.

 

“The bowling was a lie.”

 

“A lie? I thought your league was hot on the tail of some championship?”

 

“It was. And we took second place. But that was over two weeks ago, blondie.”

 

“Two weeks ago? So what the hell have you been doing those evenings if it wasn’t bowling?”

 

Hutch gave up on the zipper and sat down on the chair across the table. “Buddy, I can’t see your face, but I can tell you’re blushing.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Yes, you are. I can tell by the way you’re playing with your tail. Come on, you can tell me. I’m your best pal. If you’ve discovered you’ve got this odd kink… well, it happens to everyone. I mean, I’ve only recently realized that I…”

 

“Stop. Just stop. It’s not a sex thing.”

 

“Riiiight.” Hutch got up and headed for the refrigerator. “Hey, Starsk. Can I get you a beer?”

 

“Sure. Thanks.”

 

Hutch grabbed two bottles and put them on the table. Then he pulled a large bowl out of the cupboard. “Can you manage the beer in the bottle, or do you want me to pour it into a bowl on the floor?”

 

“Very funny. Just give me the damn bottle opener.”

 

Hutch did better than that. He opened both bottles.

 

Starsky grabbed his and brought it up to his face. He tilted his head one way, then the other. Then he put the bottle down in frustration. “Godammit. I can’t tilt my head back in this thing. I need a straw.”

 

Hutch pulled one out of the kitchen junk drawer. He blew through it and put it in the neck of Starsky’s beer.

 

“How humiliating,” Starsky said as he poked the straw into the mouth hole of his mask.

 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

 

Starsky sighed. “Yeah. I will. But first I gotta piss.”

 

“There a way for you to do that? Or do I need to find you a fire hydrant?”

 

“Fuck you.” Starsky stood up. “I have at least one zipper that works on this thing. Find us some grub, would you? I missed dinner.”

 

Hutch opened the fridge, then the doors above the counter. “Hate to say it, buddy, but there’s really nothing to eat here.”

 

Starsky called out from the bathroom. “So, Mrs. Hubbard, what you’re sayin’ is you went to the cupboard and found it bare, in fact, boneless?’

 

“That’s what I’m saying.”

 

“How about you call and get some pizza delivered? I’m starvin’”

 

“You sure you want pizza or a nice bowl of Gravy Train?”

 

“Shut up, Hutchinson.”

 

“Shutting up. Though when the pizza guy knocks at the door, do us all a favor and refrain from barking.”

 

Starsky did better than that. He hid in the bedroom when the pizza was delivered.

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“By the way, thanks for cutting my food up in such little pieces. That’s beyond the call fo duty, Hutch.” Starsky went to the kitchen and put his empty plate in the sink. “But you still haven’t gotten me out of this costume.”

 

“No kidding. And you’ll still haven’t told me why you’re in it.”

 

“See, it’s like this. I got canned for hitting the vending machine one too many times.”

 

“I didn’t know there was rule that said how many candy bars you could get out of it.”

 

“There isn’t, dummy. I mean, literally hitting it. Getting snacks without putting money into it.” Starsky made his way to the couch. “It seems the Snak Tyme guy discovered the discrepancies in not only the machine by Pathology, but the ones near Vice and Mimeo. He told Valerie in Supply and Operations, and she gave Dobey a call. The Cap read the riot act to me.”

 

“So, he’s always reading the riot act to you.”

 

“Yeah, but apparently Accounting has some new Comptroller, and he’s hell on wheels. I think the guy’s related to Simonetti.”

 

Hutch shuddered.

 

Starsky said, “Yeah, you and me both. To make a long story short, Dobey assigned me to be Safe-T Dog for the month. That’s twelve appearances in public schools. I have to make an hour long presentation about basic safety while I’m dressed up like a dog.”

 

“You’re joking.”

 

“Would I kid about that?” Starsky gave the coffee table a kick. “Safe-T Dog’s motto is, ‘Help me lick crime’. It’s on all the pencils I hand out. And on the stickers.”

 

“Like the one stuck to your butt?”

 

Starsky stood up and tried to turn his head to see.

 

“Help me out, Hutch. Get it off of me. Some rug rat must have stuck it there.”

 

“I’m kidding, Starsk.”

 

Starsky sat back down.

 

“So why’d you lie and tell me you went bowling?” Hutch went into the bathroom and came out with his toothbrush in his mouth.

 

“Why indeed, Sherlock? Because I don’t need the shit from you and everyone you tell at the station. I figured I could do my penance, and no one would be the wiser.”

 

“Until you got stuck in your suit.”

 

“Dobey told me one rip, one tear, one grease stain on this outfit and he’d take the thousand dollars replacement cost out of my next six paychecks. A thousand bucks, shit, that’s a long yard of green. Not even a nice tux costs that much.”

 

“Yeah, but you can pick up a tuxedo anywhere. There can’t be too many weimaraner outfits out there.”

 

“I’ll have you know it’s not a weimaraner costume. It’s a bull dog or golden retriever.” Starsky grabbed his tail and inspected it. “Or something.

 

‘Whatever you say, Snoopy.”

 

Hutch got a copy of “Organic Gardening” to the back of the head. It made him spray toothpaste onto the coffee table.

 

“Watch it!”

 

“I was. That was why my aim was so good.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Later that night, Starsky and Hutch were sitting on the couch watching a late night re-run of “McMillan and Wife.” Starsky had to switch between looking out his eyeholes and then through the mask’s mouth. His odd nods made Starsky look like he was slowly agreeing with everything he saw.

 

“So, you think Rock Hudson makes for a pretty convincing police commissioner?”

 

“Well, he’s a little young, but he’s certainly got enough mock-ees-mo, if you know what I mean.”

 

“I know what you mean. He’s pretty tough.”

 

“This dog suit head makes me wonder if this is what it feels like to wear bifocals.”

 

“I have a feeling you’ll have a lot less hair by the time you’ll need them.”

 

“Speak for yourself.”

 

“I thought ‘speak’ was something I should be asking you to do.”

 

Hutch watched as Starsky slowly turned his head to look at Hutch, then back again.

 

“Oh, you’re funny, Hutch.”

“You haven’t seen funny until I tell you to get my slippers.”

 

“You’re a barrel of laughs.” Starsky got up. “I need to use the can again. Don’t switch the channel. ‘McCloud’ is on next. I love that cowboy in New York thing he has goin’ on.”

 

“Sure thing, pal. And maybe if you’re lucky, they’ll run “Old Yeller” on the Late, Late, Late Show.”

 

Starsky was returning from the bathroom when he saw Hutch coming out of the bedroom. “What were you doin’?”

 

“I was making a phone call.”

 

“Who’d you call?”

 

“Huggy. I thought he’d could help us out of this predicament.”

 

“Huggy? Man, there’s a lot of things I’d ask that man to do for me, but extracting me from a furry dog suit is not one of them. I gotta retain some sort of credibility!”

 

“Don’t worry. I only asked him if his Cousin Lester was still in town.”

 

“Lester? Isn’t he the tailor?”

 

“That’s the one. I was hoping we could get him to make a house call this time of night and repair the zipper.”

 

“Any luck?”

 

“Naw. And his name isn’t Lester anymore. Huggy says he went down to San Francisco and hooked up with some commune. Lester goes by the name of Moon Rabbit now. He spends his time making jewelry out of beach glass.”

 

“So no zipper help from him.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“You know any chicks that can sew?”

 

“None that I’d call and let her see me like this.”

 

“You know, if you’re not going to cut that costume open to get out of it, then we’re going to have to wait until morning.”

 

“Hutch, I can’t afford to pay a thousand dollars for this thing. You know that.”

 

Hutch shrugged. “Then I’m going to hit the sack. I’ve got one more idea, but it’s too late tonight to do it.” Hutch handed his partner a couple of pillows and a blanket.

 

Starsky started to put them on the couch.

 

“No dogs on the furniture.”

 

“You gotta be kidding.”

 

Hutch smiled. “I am.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Starsky was sitting next to Hutch in the car. Hutch was driving.

 

“Christ, it’s beginning to really stink in this suit. Close to twenty hours isn’t doing my body odor any favors.”

 

Hutch wrinkled up his nose. “You aren’t kidding. You smell pretty ripe. I’d hose you down, but I hate the smell of wet dog.”

 

Starsky just turned his head to look out the window. “Where are we headed, Hutch?”

 

“I’ve got a plan.”

 

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“With your method of dog suit extraction, yes. With your choice in women, no.”

 

“That’d be ‘bitch’ to you.”

 

“I didn’t say it, you did.”

 

“That I did. And it was wrong.”

 

Starsky didn’t answer.

 

Hutch made a left turn onto Marshall. “Here we are,” he said, as he pulled up and took another turn into the alley. Then he stopped.

 

“Hutch, this is Merle the Earl.”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“It’s a car place. And Merle knows me.”

 

“Yes, it is, and yes he does.”

 

“So why are we here?”

 

“To get you out of the Safe-T Dog suit. Don’t worry. I told him I was bringing by some stupid whippo who tried to rob a bank in a costume and got his zipper stuck. I said that Dobey told me to swing by here before I brought him downtown. We’ll make sure the dog head stays on. And you don’t say anything. Merle’s got some tools, like needle-nosed pliers, that will do the trick. So, just bear with me, and you should get out of there with your dignity intact.”

 

“And the suit intact, too. Right? In one piece.”

 

“In one piece, buddy. You just got to get in the back seat.”

 

“Back seat?”

 

“Well, you are the two-bit canner. Two-bit canners don’t sit in the front seat of police cars. And another thing. I gotta cuff you, Starsk.”

 

Starsky stared straight ahead. “Please tell me you aren’t getting off on this is some way. Please.”

 

“I’m not getting off on this in some way.”

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“Do you want the suit off or not?”

 

Starsky turned and put his paws behind his back. Hutch took his cuffs from his belt. He struggled to get them around Starsky’s wrists. “The cuffs aren’t fitting very well.”

 

“Maybe you oughta just throw a net over me?”

 

The cuffs snapped shut. “Got it…now…into the back you go.”

 

Starsky got to his knees and faced the back seat. He rocked three times and flung himself over the barrier. He got halfway over and struggled, flailing and kicking. Hutch had to give him a push. It put Starsky onto the back seat. It also got Hutch a swat in the face with Starsky’s tail.

 

Starsky struggled to sit upright. Hutch had to lean over and pull his partner’s legs to one side. By the time Starsky was upright, both men were panting hard.

 

“This had better work, Hutchinson. And that’s the last thing I’m saying until this zipper is fixed.”

 

Hutch put the car back in gear and went the rest of the way to Merle’s. He parked behind a bright purple two-door number with a continental kit. Merle stood, his arms crossed, in front of another hot little short, one with paint so bright it made Hutch squint.

 

Hutch got out of the Ford. He went around to the passenger side, opened the door and yanked his prisoner up and out.

 

Starsky yelped.

 

“Shut up, punk. You’re in enough trouble as it is. What were you thinking? Robbing the Sixth National Bank with nothing but a big stick?” Hutch marched his charge over to Merle.

 

Merle tossed his rag onto a workbench. “So this is the clown you was tellin’ me about? Sheeet, he don’t look so dangerous. He looks like some sort of Lassie lap dog.”

 

“His bite is worse than his bark. That’s what I was told, anyway. Anyway, every boy needs a dog, right?”

 

“Wouldn’t know, man. When I was a kid, we was lucky enough to…”

 

“I know, Merle. You were born on a hard bed.”

 

“Man, youse always bringin’ me a challenge, blood, but it’s the first time youse brought me a dog.” Merle looked around. “Where’s your partner, Al’s boy?”

 

“He’s ahh, getting a hair cut.”

 

“That’s why he’s not here with you?” Merle looked suspicious. “How long does a haircut take anyway? I mean, really. It’s five minutes and a clipper. I could do it here for him, charge him three bucks.”

 

“Starsky goes to some salon. Ahh, they called this morning and said they had an opening. It takes weeks to get in and, ahh, he jumped at the chance.”

 

“A what? A sall-on? What sall-on?”

 

“Ahh, Tyrone’s.”

 

Merle took a long look at Safe-T Dog’s head. “Salon, beauty shop. Tomato, to-mah-toe. That boy of Al’s has fallen on hard times.”

 

“It seems so,” Hutch agreed.

 

Starsky gave Hutch kick in the shins.

 

“Watch it, turkey.” Hutch pushed him up against the side of wall. “There’s the zipper, Merle. Can you get it unjammed?”

 

“You’re looking at Merle the Earl, the Customizing Pearl. Sheeet, I’m a regular wizard with tools.” He grabbed a small pliers off his work bench and went at it.

 

Fifteen minutes later, the zipper was unjammed. Merle started to pull it down it when Hutch stopped him, putting his hand on Merle’s. “No. I just got to know that the zipper will go all the way down. But I got to keep him in here to, ahh, not break the chain of evidence.”

 

Hutch handed him two twenties and a ten. Merle nodded and pocketed the money. “Chain of evidence, right. Anytime, blood.”

 

Hutch shoved Starsky back in the car, slammed the door and drove away.

 

Merle shook his head. “Al, Al, Al. What has your boy become? I mean, I’ve seen some pretty sad things, but…wow.”

 

Picking up his rag, Merle went back to work.

 

XXXXXXXX

 

“Tell you what, Starsk. We’ll drive straight to Metro and get this suit returned.” Hutch reached under the seat and put the mars light on the car roof. “I’ll go code two. We’ll just use the lights.”

 

Starsky was quiet in the back seat. He hadn’t said a word since they had left Merle’s.

 

“Starsky? You all right?”

 

“Yeah. I’m just hoping Merle didn’t figure out it was me. My Uncle Al will never let me hear the end of it. Nor would anyone in a five mile area.”

 

“I think your secret’s safe.”

 

“Thanks for helping me out with this, Hutch. You’re my pal.”

 

“That I am.” Hutch took a right on Kellogg and then a left on Pico.

 

Hutch stopped for a school crossing guard. That’s when Starsky realized they were at Overland Elementary School. Sitting in front of the crosswalk, Hutch watched the children turn curious eyes to the battered Ford with the flashing red light.

 

They started to point and shout. And more children entered the crosswalk and peered into the front of Hutch’s car.

 

“Oh, my God, Hutch.  Get us out of here. They recognize me! They think Safe-T Dog’s in trouble.  Drive away!”

 

“I can’t. I can’t go through a crosswalk filled with kids.”

 

“Then back up. Make a U-turn or something.” Starsky panicked.

 

“I can’t. There’s someone in back of me.”

 

“Then go code three and get us the hell out of here.”

 

“You mean, drive fast and recklessly with minors in the area? That’s not something Safe-T Dog would do. What do you want to do? Maybe you can toss them some pencils or something?”

 

“I can’t. I left my duffel bag of stuff at your place.”

 

Starsky hunched down and tried to hide. The crossing guard shooed the children along. They kept looking back in puzzlement but kept on walking.

 

When the way was clear, Hutch continued to Metro.

 

Neither said a word until Hutch parked in the garage. He got out and opened the back door. Hutch undid the handcuffs and helped Starsky out. “Tell you what. You go change in the second floor bathroom. There’s not a lot of traffic in Accounting, so you should be able to get in there without too much trouble. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Hutch was still waiting at his desk. He looked down at his watch. It shouldn’t take his partner that long to de-dog and meet him upstairs. Hutch headed down to the second floor men’s room.

 

He opened the door. “Starsk, you in here?”

 

“Yeah.” Starsky’s voice came from the third stall.

 

“You okay? You’re not sick or anything?”

 

“No.”

 

“So, why aren’t you coming out? Didn’t the suit come off?”

 

“Oh, it came off all right. It’s just that I forgot something.”

 

“What?”

 

“I forgot I didn’t have any clothes on under the dog suit.”

 

Hutch didn’t know what to say.

 

“Hutch, say something.”

 

“I don’t know what to say.”

 

“How about why I’m standing here naked in a police station bathroom stall, clutching a smelly dog suit with a zipper that now won’t go back up?”

 

“Yeah. That would be a good thing to say.”

 

“You want to know why I put the dog suit on without clothes?”

 

“Not really. But I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

 

“I was really having a hard time with the whole Safe-T Dog thing. You know, getting into my character. I thought that if I didn’t have anything between me and the suit, it would kinda be like method acting. You know, that I’d really feel like a dog.”

 

There was a long silence. “Safe-T Dog isn’t a real dog. You do know that, Starsk, right?”

 

“Okay. So I’m really a real candy bar thief dressed in a dog costume giving third graders a lecture about safety,” Starsky snapped. “That make you happy?”

 

“Not really. But then we still have a problem here, don’t we, pal?”

 

“Yeah,” said Starsky glumly.

 

“Tell you what. I’ll head down to the locker room and see if you have anything that will work in there.”

 

“I don’t. I cleaned it out yesterday and haven’t replaced stuff.”

 

“Okay. Okay. You just wait here, and I’ll find something for you to wear.” Hutch put his hand under the stall door. Starsky slapped it away.

 

“What are you doin’?”

 

“I thought you’d want to hand me the costume.”

 

Starsky was silent. “I don’t know what’s worse, me in here naked with nothing. Or me in here naked with a furry dog suit.”

 

“You decide, buddy.”

 

Thirty seconds later, the dog suit was pushed under the door. “Get this thing away from me. I’ll take my chances.”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Hutch had no luck in the locker room. Starsky’s cubby was empty and Hutch’s had only a dirty shirt and one sock. He waited a while, hoping someone would come in. Ten minutes later, he gave up.

 

Then Hutch had an idea. He headed to Metro’s prop room.

 

Rennie Gatti looked up. “Hey, Hutch,” she said. “What can I do you for?”

 

“Ahh, Starsky and I have a bust going down. He needs some sort of a disguise.”

 

Rennie stood up and smiled. “You’ve come to the right place. But you know that already.”

 

Hutch grinned back. “I do. I do.”

 

“What are you aiming for this time? Some sort of mob businesses man? An Arab sheik? A cowboy? Do you got some sort of nautical theme going on?”

 

“This all sounds like a Village People thing,” Hutch said laughing.

 

“That, or community theater,” Rennie said, moving toward the clothes rack along the side of the room. “So tell me what you need.”

 

Hutch thought quickly. “We’re working with Vice on this one. A sting at some bar.”

 

“Gotcha. That must be the Paradox bust.” Ronnie pushed hangers along a pole. Then she handed Hutch a leather vest, peppered with silver studs. “Here. And these are the pants that go with it. Your partner will fit right in.”

 

Hutch took the clothes and studied the pants. They smelled of leather and looked like something his partner would have to pour himself into.

 

“Rennie, you have anything tamer?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like some regular clothes?”

 

“Hutch honey, this is the undercover disguise department. You want regular clothes, head to Darcy’s and pick yourself up an ugly plaid shirt.” She handed Hutch the sign-out book. “Make sure you sign it right this time. Checking out the Indian chief outfit and signing Simonetti’s name didn’t sit well with the Commissioner.”

 

Hutch grinned and scrawled his signature. “Yeah, but it was worth it.”

 

He started to head out the door when Rennie stopped him.

 

“Here,” she said, tossing him a black studded collar. “This goes with it.”

 

Later, the squad room was filled with raucous laughter as Simmons and Babcock recounted how they had run into Starsky and Hutch stepping out of the stairwell. Hutch had been dressed in a black leather studded vest and tan slacks. Starsky had been wearing tight black leather pants and that orangish long-sleeved sweater they seemed to pass back and forth.

 

Babcock chortled, “They looked like a cross between “Rocky Horror Picture Show” and a Sears catalog. You should have seen it. And you should have seen how fast they were walking!”

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Hutch was enjoying a peanut butter and bean sprout sandwich at his desk. He watched his partner consume the remains of a pastrami on rye with sliced sour pickles.

 

“So tell me. I hear Safe-T Dog has a list of ten things he tells the kids. Tell me what they are.”

 

Starsky looked up. A dab of mustard was at the corner of his mouth. He wiped it on his sleeve.

 

“Let’s see. Don’t play with matches or lighters. Look both ways before you cross the street. Drop and roll in case of a fire. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t go swimming on a full stomach. Don’t let your mom comb your hair when she’s mad at your dad. Don’t read in dim light; you’ll ruin your eyes. Don’t fly your kite in a thunderstorm. Always wear clean underwear in case you’re in an accident. Finish the food on your plate; there are starving children in India. And the last one, don’t run with scissors. Really, Safe-T Dog has it covered.” Starsky reached behind him and made a little gesture with his hand.

 

“What was that?” Hutch asked.

 

“I was gonna make my personal Safe-T Dog move, shake my tail at you. But I forgot I wasn’t wearin’ the suit.”

 

“You had a personal move?”

 

“Well, sure. I wanted my act to have some originality to it. I got the idea from Carol Burnett, you know, how she pulled on her ear when she ended the show. I thought the tail was more interesting. And the kids loved it.”

 

“I’ll bet they did.”

 

Hutch crumpled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it into the trash. Starsky tried to block his throw and missed.

 

“Dr. J., I am.”

 

The door to Dobey’s office opened. “Starsky, in here!”

 

Hutch started to get up at the same time as his partner.

 

“Not you. Him. In my office,” Dobey snapped.

 

Starsky made a grimace and followed the captain.

 

Hutch grabbed a stack of reports and reached for a pencil. It was a blue pencil with a yellow paw print on it and the words, ‘Help me lick crime!’

 

XXXXXXXX

 

Hutch pulled the car over and put it in park. He watched his partner blow a whistle and wave a line of cars by. Then Starsky turned and did the same to the next group of cars.

 

Hutch grabbed a newspaper from the back seat and settled in. He was ten minutes early. It gave him just enough time to read last week’s news.

 

Hutch looked up when he heard the passenger door open. Starsky slid in, took off his police cap and untucked his shirt.

 

“Shit, it’s hot out there. And this dark blue uniform isn’t helping any.”

 

“You want to stop at the 7-Eleven on the way home? I’ll by you a Slurpee.”

“Sounds good.”

 

They drove in silence for a while. Then Starsky said, “Man, two more days of traffic control, and I’m off the hook.”

 

“At least you’re not out there dressed as Safe-T Dog.”

 

“No kidding. Though that outfit is what got me here, thanks to that principal calling the Commissioner. Who would’ve thought those kids would have been so traumatized by a dog suit?” 

 

“Starsk. It wasn’t that the dog suit traumatized them. It was that they were horrified to see Safe-T Dog in the back of a police car, apparently arrested and being taken downtown. They had to bring in some counselor to put their little psyches back together. Dr. Mehmel said it took three sessions before they felt they could ‘trust again’.”

 

“Little boogers. They were probably just looking for a way to get out of class. Dr. Mehmel probably gave them nicer pencils than I did.”

 

Hutch reached over and dug into the glove compartment. He pulled out a pencil and handed it to Starsky. It was red and had a silver tassel on the top. ‘I’m super special’ was written along the side.

 

“See, I was right. My pencils just had erasers at the end.” Starsky sighed. “I think Safe-T Dog’s new rule is don’t kick the vending machine to get candy out of it, at least where you’ll get caught.”

 

Hutch pulled into a 7-Eleven parking lot. Starsky dug out his wallet. “You know, Hutch. At least I can be thankful that no one knew it was me in that suit. Can you imagine if word got out? I’d never be able to live it down.” He got out of the car and poked his head in the door.

 

“You want anything?”

 

“Nope. Though I forgot to tell you. That big guy from your bowling league…”

 

“Goldberg? The food expert in the silver shirt? What about him?”

 

“He called the other night. Apparently the bowling alley where your league meets wants to hire a mascot. Goldberg said he thought you would have a line on where to find one. Apparently, he’d been talking to your Uncle Al.”

 

Starsky’s eyes got really wide. “Oh. No. Merle…”

 

“Oh. Yes. And Starsky, I’ve changed my mind. Fetch me a couple of those Little Debbie Zebra Cakes.”

 

Starsky started to walk into the double doors when he heard Hutch shout, “And don’t forget to pay for them!”

 

A group of children walking in behind him was the only reason he didn’t give Hutch the finger.