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The King of Hearts

by

Karen B

   Let me tell ya the guy could throw. I mean he was a major leaguer if I ever saw one.  Had a pitchin' arm like Nolan Ryan. I should know. He's got brains too, even if that blond Mr. America keeps tellin' him he's just the brawn of the team. Got heart too. A heart, big as the Big Apple herself. Now I'm no expert here, but short, dark and fuzzy over there is super hero material in my book. He'd give old tall blond and gee-Q over there the shirt off his back. The food from his mouth. The roof over his head. And the blood from his veins if he thought that's what it would take to keep the blond on his feet and breathin' out his nose. He would do anything to keep, uh, Hutch that's his name, Hutch, out of a pine, wood box covered in dirt six feet under. Even if it meant his own -- shall we say -- demise.

   Look, take that street girl for instance.  Well, she used to be a high-class something-or-other, real looker. But life took its toll and she found herself trying to climb down inside a bottle to drown. She would have too, if Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor didn't come along to save the poor damsel in distress.  Put his job on the line. Now to you and me a job's a job, they're a dime a dozen, so you say who cares, so he might get fired. Small price to pay for helping some poor girl climb out of the bottle. Uh, no you don't seem to understand, let me explain.  It's not just a job to him or an adventure. Oh yeah, sure it pays the bills and puts that rotgut in his stomach he calls food. A police officer, a police detective, he'd followed in the footsteps of his father. It was no job; it was a tribute, a memorial to the memory of a man who he revered, who he respected, who he loved. Just a job? No my friend, it was the beat of his heart, the breath of his soul, the thing that kept him on this earth, the thing down deep inside that no one can take from you, no one can steal home. The way they stole his old man from him, gunned down like a dog. He would continue where his dad left off. The good in a cesspool of evil. Okay, so I'm melodramatic, give me a break will ya? Any way, Mr. Tall-Blond-and-Beautiful wasn't too keen on his friend puttin' his job…life…on the line. Hutch knew what that meant to him. But he also knew his friend had a heart big enough to save the world and so he let him do what he needed to do -- save the girl. Now wait; hold on there, he's not perfect ya know. Only one being who is perfect and we all know who He is. Least ya better know who He is if'in ya want to keep your soul.  The day he got me, he had to do one of the hardest things -- do harm to old Blondie Blue. Yeah that's right you heard me do harm to his best friend in the world. Well, it was play-acting of course, undercover stuff, but it had to look real, he had to mean it. Punched Hutch square in the jaw, sent him flying like a bowling ball down the alley. Knocked over some chairs and would've got a strike if that table full of cops wasn't in the way. Well Starsky's palms began to sweat and shiver, his heart raced faster than the speed of light. How do I know you ask? Hey, I was there, scrunched in the palm of his hand, helped him nail Blondie.  He must have forgot he was holding me and wham socked poor Hutch in the face with me balled up in his fist. Now I know that had to hurt. But more yet, I know it hurt him like a knife in his heart. No more, like a sword to his heart. No worse than that, it was like he cut out his own heart and fed it to the wolves. Stood there watching the pack rip it apart piece by piece, chunk by chunk, shredding it like some sort of cheap piece of meat. That's it.

   Oh, that's not enough for you? You want more? Okay, let me think here a second.  Well there was the time when a ticking time bomb lay waiting in the trunk of this green car. Couple old-age-homers put it there in protest to the horrible conditions they lived in at the seniors' home. Can't say I blame 'em. I was there after the fact, and the food was like that freeze-dried tasteless shit they send to the moon. Well Mr. Warm-and-Fuzzy was behind the wheel of that ticking time bomb, before you could say, Simon says, don't get in that car.  Flew out of that garage like a demonic, possessed, speed racer or somethin'.   He was driving too long too, if ya ask me, I was sweatin' pebbles.  He was almost out of time, but damn to Hell if he would jump to save his own hide. No not him. He wouldn't leave that car in the public eye, had to find a safe, empty spot, even if it meant he might not have enough time to keep his own butt from being blown to Kingdom Come.  Well he did it, jumped and watched that thing pop its hood like a jack in the box.

   Still more? You want more? Geez, I think you believe me, you're just likin' all this story tellin'. Okay, okay. This is a tough one. Blond beauty was sick. Not just achew, God bless you, hand me a Kleenex, feed me chicken soup…sick. I mean can't breathe, my heart is twisting into my chest, I'm gonna die…sick.  I was even scared. Hey, I got feelings too, ya know. Gotten kinda attached to seeing his blond head be-bopping around. And Starsk, well he is way too used to seeing that blond head be-bopping around.  I know he wanted to crawl in a hole and die right along side his friend. That's the kind of guy he is. He loves that big lug Hutch, even though he's too much of an idiot to say so to his face.  He's just not that soapy, sappy, kind'a guy. But you don't need to hear the words man. I mean just watching those two together is enough to make your heart melt into a puddle of sap.  A touch, a look, a smile, simple things to you and me. Not to them. Hell, the way they look at each other sometimes, I think the earth would open up and swallow them whole, there's so much love there, it's just not human.  Now I know short, dark, and fuzzy wanted to be swallowed up whole by the earth. Watching his best reason for living twist and writhe around in pain was just about killing him dead.  But he didn't give up. His life was on the line too, he had to find the cure and by God he did.  Now one last thing, this story would not have ended in a happy way if Hutch had died.  Nope, Starsk would have been right behind him. His love for his partner is deeper then any love he has for himself. That's the kind of man he is.

   More you say? Isn't that proof enough? Okay, okay, sit back down, put that thing away. I'll see what else I can think of.  I got'a million of them, I don't think you have that much time so I'll tell ya a few more and then that's going to be that. Capish?

   What? You're asking about me? Hey, no one ever asks about my life. Oh, I get it -- buttering me up, brown nosing it a little to keep me talking, well let me tell you something, it's working. My life in his pocket, in his hands, is the best place I could be. Sure beats the Hell out of lying in the dirt somewhere with the elements pounding down on you 24-7. Also, beats the heck out of being picked up by public enemy number one. Who you ask? You know public enemy number one, little spitfire, snakes and snails and puppy dogs tails. A little boy, dummy. They like to chuck ya through poor grandma's window or beam some poor, sweet, pigtailed, sugar and spice, girl in the eye. What a nightmare. Well, let me get back to my owner…enough about me.

   Let's see, um. Hey don't rush me I'm getting to it.  Oh yes, there was the time in that restaurant. Starsk went to use the john and when he came out Hutch had a gun in his back.  Well he thought not of himself again, shoved that pretty sugar and spice waitress out of the way of harm and reached for his pistol.  He was out to protect Hutch, no one sticks a gun in his partner's back and gets away with it, let me tell you.

   Well his draw was not quick enough.  He's fast, but he ain't no Jessie James folks.  Took a bullet in his back and the other bonked him on his head.   Hutch was by his side quick as a cat. You could hear a pin drop in that place.  The blood poured from him like a gallon of fruit punch hitting the floor.  I felt for Blondie, man he was scared. His voice shook as he tried to comfort his partner. He was so gentle with him. Did everything right. Placed his hand against both wounds at the same time, and barked at the hold-up men without a blink of fear in his eyes.  Gotta respect him too, ya know, even if he isn't my owner. Even if he thinks I should be tossed out to sea. That I'm some stupid gimmick, some fool made up just to line his pockets with some extra green stuff. Hey, I'm more than that. Anyway people, on with my story.

   Look folks the guy was in a bad way. He could bleed to death and Blondie Blue knew that. Carried him to a couch in the back room. Telling him the whole time he'd be okay, to take it easy. Don't think he knew what he was saying, just was saying. Comforting himself and Starsk.  It was a scary time for both of them. Starsk was so worried that he couldn't back up his partner. That he too would end up with a bullet in him, and he wouldn't be there to shove him out of the way and take that bullet into his own flesh.  He'd rather die then see Hutch hurt.  Let me tell you something. If you could bottle that kind of love, package it, label it, market it, I have to be honest with you folks YOU COULDN'T AFFORD IT!!!   That's priceless. Well, it all turned out okay, like Hutch promised it would.

   Then there was the time Blondie Blue got hooked like a fish on heroin.  Now people buying that stuff is stupid…least I'm harmless.  Anyway it wasn't his fault some bad apples were out to get his girl and that's the road they took. Blindfolding him and shooting him up with the garbage. He couldn't stop them.  Well, Starsk found him in a dirty, old alley, lying on the ground like some street bum.  Hey, it was not a pretty sight.  Took him to a friend's place, Huggy, I think's his name. Starsky kept him in that small room under lock and key, wouldn't leave his side, not for a second. Held him tight while he got sick all over him.  Broke his heart to shove that coffee down his throat, knowing he couldn't hold it down.  Stood in front of the tall Blintz.  Stood his ground, wouldn't budge.  The blond lug could've took his head off, but he didn't move. Wouldn't let him out of that room. Wouldn't let him get to the junk he craved so deeply.  He took the blows; he ate the hurtful words and swallowed them down hard.  No matter what Hutch threw at him, he wouldn't divert from the cause.  Keeping Blondie away from the junk and safe.  Even put that dime-a-dozen job on the line again.  Could've lost his badge lying and protecting his partner like that.  He loved his dad, honored him in every way he knew how. But nothing was worth the loss of his friend and partner -- he'd sell his soul to the Devil to keep him safe.  Well, Hutch kicked the garbage and the freak that did it to him went to jail.  I thought he should be stoned to death but that's just me. Little too bitter, little too many pebbles in my head. So that's it. That's what I think of my owner and friend.

   Course, what do I know? Not much, I only travel around with him in this damn dark pocket of his. Bounce around in here all day long.  Getting' hit and banged up by coins and keys; sometimes even get stuck in a wad of gum. Been run through the ringer a few times. Spin-dried too, and not on gentle cycle either. He even lost me for a few months. I wasn't far. Under the damn seat of his precious toy car.  Damn inanimate object that he loves so much.  Hell, damn near forgot about me. Found me one day when he dropped his keys to the ground. Found somethin' else too -- enough plastic explosive to blow up the whole police garage, if not the city.  No way, I told you enough stories, not going into that one. Hell, anyhow I ended up back in the saddle again, down deep in his pocket. Called me his good luck somethin' or other.  Well, like I said, what do I know? I'm just a rock. His pet rock. Only cost him $20 bucks.  Hey, I ain't no rip-off inanimate fad, I got papers. Well, all the credit goes to him, anyway he is the KING OF HEARTS.

THE END