Smokey Callahan looked up at the Regulator clock that was behind the bar. Not quite 10 a.m. yet. He wouldn’t officially open for hours but he was here because he was expecting some early beer deliveries. He went back to unpacking a case of glasses. A bachelor party for one of the guys at 8's had decimated his supply. Someone had told them that they had to smash the glasses in the fireplace after each toast to insure a long and happy marriage. You’d think that even bombed out of their minds, hose jockeys would be able to tell a jukebox from a fireplace.

He heard the front door rattle. The beer guys all used the back door. He looked up at one of the sorriest sights he’d seen in ages.

“You open?”

“Since it’s obviously an emergency, how can I not be?” Smokey said, trying to keep any sound of sympathy from his voice. He had a gruff reputation to uphold.

It almost hurt to watch Johnny Gage limp into the bar. Even in the relatively dim light Smokey could see the swelling around his left eye and the red bumps on his neck and face. He walked around to the back of the bar as Johnny gently eased himself onto a barstool with a groan. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Johnny said emphatically.

“Sure thing. What’ll ya have? The usual?”

“Anything, as long as it’s cold and wet and 100 proof,” Johnny sighed.

This looked rough. Smokey noticed that Johnny’s hands and forearms were covered with scratches. They also bore angry looking red marks like he had on his face and neck. The bumps looked like some kind of sting. Smokey wouldn’t ask about them. He knew that despite what he had said, Gage would tell him all about it. In his own good time. It was one of the reasons he was here. Smokey could wait. He had all the time in the world.

Smokey set a glass of beer in front of him. There was no way that he was getting anything that was anywhere near 100 proof. In fact, after he had one or two, Smokey would switch him over to a more watered down brew. He also set a small brass tray in front of him.

Johnny knew the routine. He fished his keys out of his pocket and tossed them onto the tray. He could get as blotto as he wanted but he wasn’t going to drive that way. Those were the house rules at the Second Alarm. Of all the people in LA, the patrons here were the most aware of the dangers of drinking and driving.

Johnny drank his beer in a kind of brooding silence. Smokey went back to unpacking the glasses and gave him his space. He heard a noise at the back door.

“Sounds like I have a delivery. Be right back,” Smokey said.

If Johnny hadn’t waved his hand slightly, Smokey would have been sure he hadn’t heard him at all.

It wasn’t a beer delivery. It was Whitey, his cook. Whitey was bringing in supplies for the all-you-can-eat buffet they’d started last year. Whitey loved to cook and firemen loved to eat. At least here, they knew they wouldn’t be toned out before they could finish their meal. It was better that they had food in their stomachs rather than just alcohol anyway. He helped Whitey unload the groceries. “You’d better thaw out a burger for Gage,” Smokey advised.

“I thought that was his car. What is it this time? More girl trouble?”

“I don’t think so. He looks like he’s been rode hard and put up wet. A-shift worked yesterday,” Smokey pointed out.

“I’ll get on it as soon as I get the perishables taken care of,” Whitey promised.

“No hurry. He’s still in the ‘not talking’ stage.”

“That won’t last long with him,” Whitey laughed.

“Never does. I’d better get back out there. Listen for the Budweiser guy. He’s due anytime now.”

“Will do.”

Smokey went back into the bar. Johnny had just polished off his first beer. Smokey, silently slid a second one in front of the uptight paramedic. Johnny didn’t speak so Smokey began wiping down the bar. He made an off hand comment. “Some days just seem to be cursed.”

“You have no idea,” Johnny agreed, shaking his head sadly. “I mean, I don’t believe it myself and I was there.”

“Lot of rough calls?”

“Oh, it started way before then. First thing in the morning, we’re sitting around eating a little breakfast. It was Stoker’s turn to bring in donuts. But I got to thinking that we had gotten in a rut, you know. Donuts every shift. All that sugar. It’s bad for your teeth, and Chet’s waistline,” he added with a laugh.

Smokey could see that Johnny was beginning to relax and he joined in the laugh at Chet’s expense. He poured some stale cheese popcorn into a large bowl and put it within Johnny’s reach. It would help soak up the beer until Whitey got the grill fired up.

Johnny unconsciously took a handful and stuffed it into his mouth. Then he went on with his tale of woe. “So anyway, I figured that I’d like something different. You know, healthier, so I started looking through the cabinets and I found a box of Raisin Bran. I mean that stuff is good for you, right?”

“Supposed to keep ya regular. Whitey swears by it,” Smokey told him. He was glad that Whitey was out of earshot. He knew darned well that the retired firefighter would eat broken glass before he’d eat cold cereal of any kind. He claimed it was far too white bread for his fine African tastebuds. Although those same tastebuds seemed to find every other food on Earth to their liking.

“Ah, this is more like it,” Johnny said enthusiastically, as he grabbed a bowl out of the next cabinet and poured the cereal into it. Leaving the box on the counter, he carried the bowl of cereal over to the table and picked up the milk carton that was in front of Roy. “You guys are ruining your health with all that sugar and junk.”

“Oh, what do you know?” Chet snarled.

“I know that the annual physicals are coming up and certain people might want to start watching their waistlines,” Johnny teased watching Chet tense up a bit.

“For your information, I weigh the same now as I did in high school,” Chet glowered.

“Oh yeah? So you were fat in high school too?” Johnny asked ‘innocently’. It wasn’t often that he got the better of Chet and, as the Irishman loved to say, paybacks are hell.

Before further argument could erupt Roy got up and walked over to the counter. He got a bowl and poured himself some cereal. “I think Johnny has something there,” he said returning to the table.

“You do?” Marco was amazed.

“Yes, I do. Look at this list of vitamins and nutrients listed here. This has got to be much better for you than all the empty calories in those donuts.”

“Well, thank you, Partner.” Johnny was thrilled to have an ally.

“I don’t know about the nutrition angle,” Mike Stoker said slowly. “But I know I wouldn’t eat that cereal.”

“Why not, Mike?” Johnny laughed. “Would it be that you feel that you got burned by buying those donuts and us being too smart to eat them?”

“Smart’s not the word that comes to mind when it comes to eating that cereal,” Mike insisted.

“Oh yeah, well just watch, Mike,” Johnny said, while shoveling a healthy spoonful into his mouth. “If you think me and Roy are gonna bite on that one, you’re nuts. This cereal is a lot healthier than that stuff.” Johnny pushed the box of donuts across the table with disdain.

“These were just made this morning and they don’t have bugs in them,” Mike said simply, helping himself to another donut.

“That’s lame, Stoker!” Johnny laughed shoveling two more large spoonsful into his mouth.

Marco leaned closer to Johnny’s bowl. “He’s right!! There’s things crawling around in there!!”

“Those are raisins, you idiot!”

“Those are raisins.” Marco pointed to the raisins. “These are bugs.” He pointed to one of the flakes.

Johnny stared at it. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think that something was moving around on the flake but he was sure they were making the whole thing up.

Roy stared into his own bowl. “Damn! He’s right! It looks like some kind of larva.” Roy jumped up and walked over to the garbage can and dumped the contents of the bowl into it. He was thrilled that he hadn’t actually taken a bite yet.

The cap got up and got the box. He opened it and looked inside. “This stuff has been in there a while -- yep, it’s buggy. We’d better check out the rest of the stuff in the cabinet.”

Johnny sat there for a minute. He was still in denial but the more he stared at the flake the more sure he was that he’d been eating buggy cereal. He suddenly got up and ran for the washroom.

“You’re looking a little green around the gills for a guy who’s such a picture of good health,” Chet called after him with an evil laugh.

Roy felt a little sorry for his partner so he suggested that they go pick up supplies at Rampart.

“As if that wasn’t bad enough, my idiot partner starts to blab the whole thing to Dixie. And Dixie, being Gossip Central, couldn’t stand it when I stopped him from telling her. She calls in Brackett and Early for a consult telling them that from what she could tell, something I ate disagreed with both of us,” Johnny complained, draining the last of his glass of beer.

“Doesn’t sound like a very good start to the day,” Smokey agreed, drawing him another brew. He nodded as Whitey walked in from the back room. Gage didn’t even seem to see him.

“The worst part is, that things actually got worse from then on,” Johnny complained. “The only reason that we escaped a douse of bromo seltzer is that we got a call. A woman in labor call.............”

The squad pulled up to the scene a few minutes after the engine arrived. Captain Stanley met them by the equipment bays. “Just a couple of kids here. They are frantic and directing us to the back yard,” he explained.

“The back yard?” Johnny questioned.

“Hope the mother didn’t suffer some kind of fall,” Roy said, grabbing the OB kit and the biophone.

Johnny grabbed a blanket and some of the other usual response equipment. They both followed the cap and the engine crew around the house to the back yard. The kids were both talking at once but the older one, a boy, said that they had been told in school to call the Fire Department when there was a fire or a medical emergency.

“You did the right thing, son,” Cap told him.

“Hurry! Hurry!” his younger sister insisted in a shrieking voice. “Gladys is going to have her babies!”

“Babies? Twins? Where is Gladys?” Roy asked nervously. Mulitple births presented more problems. This could be serious. They had to get to the mother. They looked around desperately but they saw no one in the back yard.

“In the treehouse,” the boy said.

“How in the world did a woman in labor climb up into a tree house?” the cap asked Roy and Johnny in a stage whisper.

“Women in labor have been known to do some strange things,” Roy told him in a voice that the kids could not overhear.

A strange, pain-filled wail came from the treehouse.

“Uh oh,” Johnny said, “birth sounds imminent. I’d better get up there then you can toss me the stuff.” Johnny ran over to the short ladder that led to the treehouse and climbed up it. He pushed back the blanket that served as a door to enter the small playhouse.

He crawled into the treehouse on his knees but he only got two steps in when an enraged ball of grey fur, claws and teeth shot from across the small room. He barely had time to cover his face with his arms when it hit him. He screamed and made his way back toward the door. He leaned against the blanket which gave under his weight dumping him unceremoniously on his rear end on the ground outside the treehouse. Luckily it was only a four foot drop.

“What the---” the cap demanded.

“She - ah refused treatment,” Johnny groaned weakly. “Gladys is a cat, Cap.”

While the cap explained to the kids that they should only call if it was a human medical emergency and Chet and Marco filled them on feline maternity care, Roy went to help his partner up and offer him medical care. He also refused treatment. He didn’t like the way the attending paramedic was finding undue amusement at his plight.

“Bugs and cats and trees,” Smokey said sympathetically as he sat the burger than Johnny hadn’t ordered in front of him along with his fourth beer.

Johnny hungrily bit into the burger but continued to talk. “Trees! Don’t even mention trees! If I never see a tree again, it’ll be too soon!”

Smokey continued to wipe off the bar absently, knowing that Johnny had more to say. He ate half the burger in silence but then he went on. “Then at dinnertime, it’s always at dinnertime, right?”

Station 51, skydiver caught in tree Ragged Canyon Road a quarter mile east of the Tillmen Store. Time out 18:02

The engine was waved down by a man standing next to a tractor just past Tillmen’s Store. “I’m the one that called. I seen the whole thing. The wind got ahold ‘a him and he didn’t have no control ‘a where he went. He’s out here across this field. I reckon you can foller me with your trucks. Dry as the ground is you won’t get bogged down ‘er nuthin,” the farmer declared climbing up onto his tractor and leading the two Fire Department vehicles off the road and out into a large field.

They pulled up under a line of trees on the far side of the field. If not for the colorful parachute they would not have even been able to see the guy who was high up in a tree.

“I come out here before I called ta see iff’n maybe I could help him on my own but I couldn’t raise him or nothin’. He ain’t moved at all. I figured he might be a goner so I called you fellas,” the farmer explained.

Captain Stanley called to the skydiver with his bullhorn but he didn’t get any response either. “Looks like we go up. Those branches are pretty thin up there so only one of you better go up till we see what we have,” he said.

“I’m lighter, I’ll go,” Johnny volunteered.

“Full safety gear, John,” the cap reminded him.

Johnny ran back to the squad for his harness and rope. Chet and Marco went to lend him a hand.

“If you’d had this on when you tangled with Gladys you wouldn’t be limping now,” Chet teased as he took the rope from him to tie it off.

“Put a sock in it, Chet,” Johnny snarled as he strapped the safety belt around his waist and hooked a second one to it for the skydiver.

Once he had his gear on, Johnny started to climb. About fifteen feet up, he came to a crotch in the tree. As he pulled himself up into it, he glanced up at the skydiver high above him. The guy still had not moved a muscle.

Suddenly something happened that made him forget the victim. Evidently there was a wasp’s nest in the crotch of the tree and he had disturbed it. Angry insects swarmed out of their invaded nest and savagely attacked him. Trying to avoid the vicious stings he lost his balance and fell out of the tree. His safety gear caught him and he hung helplessly 10 feet off the ground under attack by the wasps. He swatted wildly at his tormentors as he swung out into the air.

“Get him down!” Captain Stanley commanded. “Have a reel line ready to hose him down!”

Once he was on the ground he began to roll as if he was on fire. Chet liberally doused him with water but it took several minutes to drive the wasps away.

“You all right, Pal?” the cap asked him with concern.

“Fine,” Johnny muttered with disgust. His mood now matched that of the wasps. He got up and walked back over to the tree.

“Why don’t ya let me try this time,” Roy suggested kindly.

“I’ll do it,” Johnny snarled angrily as he reached up to the lowest limb to pull himself up into the tree once more.

“Hey wait, Johnny,” Chet called. He was by the engine helping Mike with the reel line. There was now a van parked near them. “It’s not a person. It’s just a dummy.”

“What?!” Johnny demanded furiously.

Three men got out of the van and approached them. They were part of a movie crew that had been filming nearby. The wind had blown the chute with the dummy off course and they had just now located it.

Since recovery of private property was not their responsibility, the fire company started to return to their vehicles. Unfortunately, Johnny’s shoes were now wet and he began to slide on the tall grass. He was slipping down a small incline and heading right for the engine. Mike Stoker saw what was happening and stepped in front of him to break his fall. Johnny still managed to scrape both his shins on the running board of the engine and fall flat on his back in the muddy spot that had been made when Chet hosed him down earlier.

“Maybe you’d better run him into Rampart to be checked over,” the cap suggested to Roy.

“Rampart!” Johnny exploded furiously. “I’m not going to Rampart! The only place I’m going is back to the station to get cleaned up. Thanks to that idiot Chet, I’m covered with mud.”

“I don’t know, Gage, I thought mud was good for bee stings,” Chet teased.

“To begin with, those weren’t bees!” Johnny shook with rage. “Oh, let’s just get out of here!” He got into the squad and slammed the door.

“You sure he shouldn’t be seen by a doctor?” the cap asked Roy.

“Well, there’s not that much they can do for stings anyway besides put ice on them and we can do that back at the station. They aren’t really that dangerous unless someone is allergic to the venom and he isn’t,” Roy explained as he walked around to the driver’s seat of the squad and got in. Once glance at Johnny told him that conversation would not be a good idea. He was bristling with anger. Roy had never seen him this mad. One sting was pretty close to his left eye. He was going to take a good look at that later whether Johnny liked it or not.

“We finally got back to the station, which in itself took so long I was tempted to jump out and hitch a ride with someone else. The old guy with the tractor made better time than Roy did. But anyway, when we got back and I washed off all the mud, Roy started fussing like an old lady. I’m tellin’ ya, Smokey, it was like he was the mad scientist and I was some kind of new specimen he wanted to experiment on,” Johnny complained. “To say nothing of the fact that dinner was long since ruined and I was starving. You know, these burgers are really good. I think I’ll have another. And another beer too. I’m telling you, a shift like that builds up a mighty big thirst.”

“Boy, I’ll say,” Smokey agreed. Whitey had anticipated the request for a second burger once they’d tricked him into the first. Smokey slid the plate along with some fries in front of Johnny and went to re-fill his glass. “Between, bugs and cats in labor and wasps and dummies.......”

“The biggest dummy being that fool Chet Kelly,” Johnny muttered as he bit into the second burger. “He gets it in his head that now that I’ve been stung by all those bees that I was going to turn into some kind of superhero. So the phantom dumps honey around the station as a joke. I tried to tell the jerk that it was wasps not bees but he has the brain power of a pea and he just didn’t get it. I finally get it through his thick skull that wasps don’t make honey. They make paper. Then he toilet papers my bunk. I’m telling you I came this far from killing him, I swear!”

“The Kellys do like their pranks,” Smokey agreed.

“I’ll tell ya what they can do with those pranks,” Johnny said emphatically, angry once more.

“Well, look at the bright side. The shift is finally over and you survived it,” Smokey said.

“Yeah, just barely. But the worse thing is what happened around midnight. We got toned out for a house fire. Everyone had gotten out but the structure was well involved so I was working a hose. I’m heading for the house when the darned thing snagged on something so I gave a big pull and that’s when it happened.”

“What happened?” asked Whitey who was now also caught up in the tale.

“Well-- and this wasn’t my fault even though the cap doesn’t see it that way -- when I yanked on the hose it somehow caught the cap behind his knees and knocked him on his keister while he was being interviewed on live TV.”

“Ouch,” Smokey groaned. There were times when captains were notoriously short of a sense of humor.

“The way I figure it, I’ll still be drawing latrine duty at Station 51 fifteen years after I retire,” Johnny sighed and took another drink of beer.

Smokey nodded at Roy DeSoto, who had just walked in.

“What are you doing here?” Johnny asked suspiciously. He wasn’t all together sure he wasn’t still mad at Roy, although he didn’t quite remember why he would be.

“JoAnne dropped me off. She’s going grocery shopping and says it always costs more if she brings me along,” Roy explained lightly, taking the stool next to Johnny and reaching for a handful of cheese pop corn.

Smokey sat a beer in front of Roy. He knew why Roy was there. They had called him.

Roy glanced at Johnny then at Smokey. He agreed with Smokey that Johnny was in no condition to drive. Roy and Smokey made small talk for a few minutes then Roy turned to Johnny. “Finish up your lunch, Junior, and I’ll drive you home,” he said pleasantly as Smokey handed him Johnny’s car keys.

“You can’t do that. How will JoAnne know where to pick you up?” Johnny questioned as he let Roy ease him to his feet.

Johnny was pretty unsteady so Roy put his hand on Johnny’s elbow to both guide him and catch him if he fell. “Let me clue ya in on a little secret about wives, Partner. They know everything,” Roy said with a grin.

“I’ll just put all this on the tab,” Smokey said as the two partners made their way to the door. Roy waved in agreement with his free hand.

Smokey shook his head sympathetically and glanced at the large calendar that hung on the wall by the phone. He didn’t have the heart to point out to them that the next time A-shift would be on duty would be Friday the 13th.

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