'Will you shut up!'
'I haven't murmured a word.' I loudly whispered. 'What the hell are we doing here in any case?' I asked my partner in a voice that sounded as though I had a throat problem.
Laryngitis or something more disturbing.
Like the Big 'C' of the throat.
My Nanna was always convinced that she would die of a massive brain tumour.
She must have been disappointed when she did die, as her problem was breast cancer.
She and I never got the chance to discuss the subject though........as she had slipped away by that time. Of the spreading fingers of cancer riddling her body and not that long held belief of a brain tumour being her nemesis. Or was it just fear or some black humoured thing which is rife throughout my family apparently, more than some illogical long held belief of a brain tumour?
Me? I reckon that I was going to die of Cancer of the throat and with every little cough, or itch, or uncomfortable feeling around that area, I was convinced that the first fingers of that disease were making their initial attack!
If I don't die of that it will be just as hard for me to relay to others my disappointment on the matter.
I too, will be dead! I doubt that there will be anybody interested enough in any case, to ask the question of me just before that final gasp. Of me dying of some other disease and not the one that I had 'cherished' for most of my adult life.......it's a 'hand-me-down' family thing for those unable to grasp the logic of it!
'We're back-up for the Swat guys.......although what the hell we are supposed to do in that role has me beat........shoot the bastards as they come vaulting over the back fence here?.......not bloody likely!' My partner murmured into my ear. She was lying that close to me in the long grass.
'Yeah Boss!' I voiced my obedience; but kept on chortling. 'If the suspects come hurtling out their back door as the guys break down the front door, what are we supposed to do? Shoot them? Not bloody likely!' I asked him in a hoarse whisper.
'You couldn't hit the side of a large farm barn at ten paces so you'll be bloody helpful, now won't you?' My partner Mar, whispered sarcastically.
She just had to get the 'stir' in!
'What're you talking about? At the last Firing Range exercise I got a better score than you did......'
'That's because they felt sorry for you and let you hit the side of that large farm barn at two paces. Blind Freddy couldn't have missed at that range!'
'I won't tell the two of you again to shut your gobs. Shut up will you! We're just about ready for a go. OK?'
Murder Squad Detective D4 Sonny Liston, our lead on this little break from normal duties loudly and angrily whispered.
Exasperation in his voice now reaching a climax!
Just then we heard the back door of the house squeak open.
The back fence we were crouched behind of which I speak was to the rear of the property that was the subject of the about to commence raid. The area near the back fence thick with giant trunks of Sydney Blue Gum trees, an assortment of other trees and bushes and long grass that was making my legs and arms itch. Virtually a jungle so we thought.