Police officers make you uneasy. I know, Cupcake. Every time a cruiser appears in your rearview mirror, you seize up and nearly wet yourself. Never mind that you’re going the speed limit, haven’t had a drink in 10 years, and that your car is so recently inspected, it still has that new sticker smell.

You grip the wheel white-knuckle tight and try to drive in a perfectly straight path. You don’t look left and you don’t look right. You stop at yellow lights and grit your teeth.

Look at you, Pudding. You’d think you were a career criminal with a pound of coke sitting atop a dead hooker in your trunk.

That’s OK. Lots of people are intimidated by police. These people want to help out at times, they really do. But the thought of picking up the phone and actually speaking with one of those big, mean upholders of the law is just too much.

Again, I’m here to help. If you have something the cops might want but you’re too fearful to approach them, look at them directly or even think too much about those fearsome badges, you can call me instead.

Specifically, I’m talking about the yellow-bellied, knuckle-dragging rejects who dropped chunks of ice onto a pair of trucks last Friday. The mouth-breathing, lily-livered wretches who stood in the dark and tried to take out complete strangers on the highway below.

We don’t want people like this running around. These are the kinds of people who think it is an absolute howl to string wire across a snowmobile path, because major injuries to the throat are just funny as hell. Demented weasels who think razor blades in Halloween apples are the height of comedy, because maiming children is just hilarious.

These are people you don’t want roaming untethered in the same world where your children play, your parents work, or your wife sometimes walks alone.

The morons who dropped those chunks of ice onto the windshields of strangers traveling at 70 mph are sociopaths. One victim was knocked unconscious, his face ripped open by a rock of frozen snow that punched through his windshield. Had there been no one in the passenger seat to take the wheel of his runaway rig, there could have been one less father, uncle or husband in the world.

Let’s face it, Lamb Chop. It could have been your elderly mother getting that chunk to the head and those glass fragments to the face. It could have been your kid in there, perhaps with grandchildren in the back seat. It could have been your darling bride, attacked viciously by a madman from above.

Because come on, Sugar. It would be comforting to think the person who did this didn’t realize how dangerous the act was. But do you believe it? Anybody over 7 years old understands that a heavy object dropped onto fast moving glass is going to cause calamity.

But this ice was not hurled by a 7-year-old. There are signs that whomever unleashed their mental deviance upon the highway drove there with a vehicle of their own. A large enough brick of ice was hurled with enough force to twist the steering wheel inside the truck below. Enough force to slice through skin and batter bone.

This was nothing short of an unwarranted and cowardly show of violence against two men trying to go home to their families after a long day of work.

If a person or a group of them ran out of the dark to randomly assault someone you love, you would be furious. And yet, that kind of attack would be more sporting than dropping something off a bridge so that it blasts its way into a vehicle like a rock from space. This was attempted murder committed remotely and upon people who had no way to defend themselves.

Doesn’t it give you a warm feeling of safety? To know that these people are still out there, walking around, pulling the legs off spiders and planning their next random act of stupidity?

The family of Robert Deschaine is furious. He is the man with the mangled face, the ruined truck and the near-death experience to haunt future travels. His family wants to find the lowlifes who attacked him and see that he, she or they are punished. Can you blame them? If it happened to your family, you would never rest, right Pumpkin?

So far, there are few clues to work with. But I suspect that somewhere, the people who flung mayhem from a bridge are out there guffawing, maybe even bragging. Do you suspect your neighbor’s kid but don’t want to get involved? Have you heard your kid talking about a group at school boasting about the heroics of an invisible attack against strangers? Are you too wary to go to the cops?

I understand, Kitten. And that’s why you should pass the information on to me so that I can direct it to the right people. I don’t mind at all. I can give you anonymity and peace of mind. You can help solve this particularly loathsome crime but never confront your policiophobia.

Although you should seek help for that someday, friend.

Every day, we go about our business with the far away knowledge that horror can find us at any time. A nasty diagnosis at the doctor’s office, a car crash, a fire. That which we love can be taken away in a finger snap and we might succumb as well.

None of us needs the odds of such bedlam boosted by lunatics who attack the most vulnerable without compunction and seemingly, without interference from human conscience. Time to win one for the good guys, in other words. Time to strike a blow against fiends.

So call me or write me or drop a note in the mail. Whatever you find easiest, Dumpling. Get that information where it needs to go and I swear I’ll stop calling you names.

OK, Petunia?



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