The Field Trip Part V

“Mr. Vancouver, I’m hungry. I want a donut,” Ginny says.

“Donuts!” the other students cry.

“Lot’s of people in the world are hungry, Ginny. You don’t hear them complaining do you?” I say.

“That’s because they’re too weak to say anything,” Ginny says.

“Nobody likes a fat know-it-all American, Ginny,” I say. “Now let’s concentrate on the matter at hand shall we, class? You’ll all get to eat a balanced lunch when we get back to the school. I think I saw tuna surprise on the cafeteria menu. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Of course, I won’t be eating that fat laden, artery choking, crap, having brought my own lunch but they’re young and their arteries should be relatively clean and able to withstand the cafeteria food until they make it out of high school.

“Mr. Vancouver, I heard tuna tastes like puss-”

“Don’t go there, Billy. That's not true anyway unless you're sleeping with a trout. You'll come to find this some day or not...You’re already wading in treacherous waters after your stunt at the capital. It’s just lucky we bagged Senator Rantorum before you climbed those statues and broke off that man’s marble penis,” I say.

“I still have his dong,” Billy says and pulls the marble penis from his jeans.

“Okay, give me that,” I say and snatch the marble penis away from Billy. The rest of the class breaks up in laughter. “Stop that,” I say wagging the marble penis at them. “We aren’t here to amuse ourselves. We came to the downtown Dunkin Donuts to catch the last specimen on our list.”

“Mr. Vancouver, isn’t it cliché to try to capture a policeman at a donut shop?” Ginny asks.

“It may be cliché Ginny but if you wanted to find a sinner you would go to a church wouldn’t you?” I say.

“No, if you were going to catch a sinner you would go to a titty bar,” Mary says.

The class giggles and I have to admit that she was pretty damn witty but that won’t stop me from giving her an F on her next English composition.

“Yes, well, there too, Mary. Peter, is the bait ready?” I ask.

“Yes, sir, one box of assorted donuts laced with horse tranquilizers,” Peter says and salutes me.

“Don’t salute me son you look like one of the Hitler Youth,” I say.

“Ooh, ooh, here comes a policeman car,” Amber says.

I look across the parking lot and like some great sea faring vessel the blue and white Crown Victoria of a highway patrolman glides over the deep blue macadam. It comes to rest in a handi-cap spot next to the front door.

“Lazy bastard,” I say under my breath. “Get ready with those donuts, Peter.”

Peter walks up to the police cruiser. God, he looks so damn innocent. If he doesn’t work as an agent for the CIA he will make a great politician or actor…well, I guess they are one in the same.

Peter pushes the box of donuts at the officer as he pulls himself from the driver’s seat. “Sir, would you like some free donuts?”

“Why thank-you son,” the police officer says. He searches through the box and chooses a blueberry cake donut.

“You’re a hero,” Peter says and smiles like some sort of male Shirley Temple. If I didn’t know that underneath those glistening teeth was the heart of a mercenary I just might have the compulsion smack him.

The police office bites into the donut and crumbs fall down on his immense stomach. I can’t help but wonder how he would run down a suspect if he had to. His jowls spill out over his collar and sit there like trash bags on a curb waiting to be picked up by the garbage men.

“Good day to you officer,” I say.

He nods.

“My class and I are trying to show appreciation for law enforcement officials today,” I say.

“That’s very nice of you…hey what is that in your hand?” the officer asks.

Damn, it’s the marble penis from the statue. I shove it behind my back.

“Oh, nothing, just part of your lesson hear today.”

The officer lowers his donut. “That looked like a wang to me. Was that a wang? Are you some kind of pervert?”

“I assure you officer I am not a pervert,” I say.

“I’m sure you would assure me you weren’t a pervert even if you were. Now, slowly remove that thing from behind your back.”

Confounded, he hasn’t eaten enough of the donut to make him pass out and Peter’s backpack and tranquilizer gun are sitting against the newspaper machine.

“What we have here officer is a marble penis,” I say, pulling the item out from behind my back.

The police officer drops his donut on the macadam. “Why you sick bastard.”

“It’s not what you think. One of my students broke it off of a statue at the capital. I was going to return it.”

I offer the police officer the marble penis but he knocks it out of my hand. “That thing isn’t even circumcised.”

Some of the children have begun to cry. I noticed Billy is eating a donut from the box laden with tranquilizers. Where is Peter? He is my only hope.

The police officer picks the marble penis up off the macadam. I consult The Country Bumpkins Guide to the City hoping to find in its pages some sort of answer to our dilemma.

“Hey”, Billy says. “That’s mine.”

The police officer turns. “This is not yours young man it belongs to this pervert right over here.” He points the thing at me and I can’t help but think it looks like a hamster wrapped in a tiny raincoat.

Billy walks up to the officer. “I said, that’s mine.”

“Get out of here, kid,” the officer says, pushing Billy aside. “This man is going to jail. He’s a pervert. ”

Where in the Hell is Peter? I wonder. The sound of the officer’s nightstick hitting my temple sounds like a linebacker hitting a tackling dummy. There is darkness…

* * *

“Mr. Vancouver?”

“Oh, my head…what is it?” I ask sitting up.

“I think we’d better go,” Peter says.

“What is it son?” I ask.

“Billy killed the police officer,” Peter says.

“He did what?” I ask standing.

In the distance I hear the wail of sirens approaching.

“When Billy saw you were getting beaten senseless by that cop he went nuts and bit his ankle. The cop tried to throw Billy off and he did but he stumbled out onto the road in front of a tractor trailer.”

I look out onto the road and see the cop lying in front of a tractor trailer with a group of people around him.

“Where are all the other kids?” I ask.

Peter helps me to my feet. “I loaded them on the bus. I knew you would want to leave as soon as possible.”

“Good work son. You will get an A+ for your effort.”

“Oh, and we did get a police officer specimen. I tranquilized the dead cop’s backup and tied them down to the luggage rack of the bus.”

A single tear trickles down my cheek.

I lay a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Son, you’ve made me very proud. Now, let’s get these specimens back to the school before the police arrive.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter says.

“Oh, by the way, how is Billy doing?”

“He ate the entire box of tranquilizer laced donuts. He’s asleep on the front seat.”

“Do you think there’s any hope for that kid?” I ask.

“No, sir I don’t.”

“Me either.”