Officer Ryans

As soon as he pulled out the gun, Officer Ryans and the other police officers were on him immediately. As he was taken away, Officer Ryans came back to me.

"He was a Barbebleue," the police officer explained. A barbebleue was sort of like a Bluebeard, and it turns out that this guy had been found out for all of his charges and was trying to escape, which is why he was going through the five stages of grief.

"Anyway, I know that you've gone through a lot of trouble. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Not if Oi 'av ter make it," I said.

"Are you even old enough to be working at a bar?" He asked skeptically.

"Oi'm workin' on gettin' me doctorate," I said. "Oi really want ter be a 'orror author, though. Or somethin' artistic loike dat."

"Sounds interesting. Tell me more."

"Is it easier for yer ter 'ear American? Oi spake it well."

"Say whatever you want."

Together I told him all of my dreams to do something that involved the arts and horror and how I was studying to be a veterinarian, and he told me about all the things that he had seen while on duty.

I looked at my watch after a while and panicked. "Oi nade ter git ter class," I said.

"I can take you in the police car," he said.

"Naw, Oi'm gran' on de 'arley," I said.

"Well, I don't want you getting in a motorcycle accident. How about I follow you and turn the alarm on if you start falling asleep."

"Is dat allowed?"

"I don't think so, but I'll risk it for you."

Together we drove to the campus, and he got out when I parked with a slip of paper in his hand.

"I want to take you on a real date sometime. Call me so we can arrange. And I mean it; I'm not going to wait for some other Barbebleue to wave a gun just to talk to you."