Other Countries

by Verlaine

"Hey, Hutch, look at this." Starsky pointed to the TV.

Hutch clicked up the volume and tilted his head. Twenty-five years of firing a non-regulation weapon had left him partly deaf in his right ear. Conveniently deaf, Starsky claimed.

It was one of those human interest stories CNN stuck in as filler, to show how weird other countries were. Two police officers, male police officers, getting married. Their pictures flashed up on the screen: bright, sincere faces, short back and sides, uniforms so starched and pressed they probably squeaked when they moved. Polite boys, who'd say "Thank you kindly," like the guy on that strange Mountie show Starsky liked.

What brought a lump to Hutch's throat were the other cops—every off-duty officer from both their detachments, according to the announcer. Young and old, tall and short, three women with neat ponytails, one man wearing a Sikh turban instead of a cap. All in full-dress, hats forming an arch over the stairs as the smiling newly-weds walked out of the church into the sunlight.

"We lived up there, we could get married," Starsky said wistfully.

And so today Hutch is looking at rings while Starsky checks Expedia for cheap tickets.