Story 3: THE FIREMAN

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Men in groups have a locker-room mentality. If you don't have a thick skin and good self-esteem it can be tough. Being able to laugh at your weaknesses helps. It's one of the cruel but practical realities of the world. I  recognize George, wonder if he' s learned to laugh at himself.

George heaves a monstrous black-bag onto the floor behind the front seat.

"There's liable to be rocks, Playboy magazines... you name it in this bag so when my wife cleans it out..." announces George, leaves the thought unfinished.

I can imagine. I smile, tap my shades down and head west. "You got to be tough if you're a fireman... or a policeman," I comment, wait for my former student, George Torrance to adjust the bag in the small space available.

"They're relentless... if they discover any type of weakness..." says George, with a half chuckle, climbs into the front seat—he was very serious as a student, so a chuckle is easily recognized.

"Well... you have Dave Bender. Don't they call him the loser because he got silver and not gold at the Olympics?"

"Oh yeah... Dave...? He's a nice guy!"

I smile to myself; I'm not sure George got the point.

"There was a fire at a house on Drouillard last night... at around twelve. It amazes me how people live. Turn right and maybe we can see it... or was it to the left...? It was dark," says George.

"Married...?" I ask, turn right.

"Yeah, two kids... one's twelve... the boy."

"Ahh... almost teenagers..." I comment.

"Yeah, I know... those crazy years."

And if the bus driver gives me a transfer for the pincushion to go to sleep on, I'll tell you the story of Fidelia in the pink shorts.

But before you continue, if you liked this vignette please click the star to vote and share the link with your friends. I'm also curious if any fire fighters out there can relate to this practical joke.

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