Turtle Tales
As it ascended into the sky, the bright yellow ball of fire reflected off the dark Los Angeles pavement. Jon and Ponch could feel the heat slowly burning rubber off their tires. Despite the heat, these two brave motor officers continue to cruise the streets to protect the area citizens and visitors. And what did these people provide in return? Suffocating gases emitted from their vehicles. It was another beautiful California day.
"You know Jon, sometimes this job is frustrating. You write tickets to drivers who then speed away, go to accidents filled with death and destruction--" Ponch yelled over the sounds of traffic whizzing by.
Before Jon could reply, a message came through the radio. "We have a report of a truck spill on the highway. Units responding identify."
"LA 15-7 Mary 3 and 4 responding," Jon called into his handheld mic.
Jon and Ponch practically flew to the accident scene. As they approached the accident, they were met with blasting horns and tons of angry drivers. One man, annoyed with the entire situation, opened the door to his car and screamed, "It's about time you got here! I'm late for work already. What's the holdup?"
Ponch slowed to a stop next to this car as Jon continued through the maze of cars. Calmly, Ponch replied to this man, "Sir, please stay in your car. It won't be long until this is all cleared up. Just be patient."
"Patience!" the man screamed, "I've BEEN patient for twenty-some minutes now. I have to get to work."
"Sir, please," Ponch pleaded with him, "Just stay in your car."
Defiantly, the man opened his car door once again, grabbed his suitcase and began heading toward the shoulder. The man looked back at Ponch to see if he would follow him. Ponch began walking, but suddenly he stopped. The man was walking directly toward Turner. Silently, Ponch mounted his motorcycle and went to help Jon. He knew Turner had the situation under control.
Laughing to himself, Ponch meandered through the maze of cars to the truck spill. What he saw amazed him. Never in the years he worked as a CHP officer did he ever see such a site. A yellow cab with a white fenced in trailer laid immobile on the road. Surrounding the truck were literally hundreds of turtles slowly walking in all directions over the highway. Then he saw his partner running around bent over at the waist trying to lure the turtles to a tree branch he had in his hand. The whole situation was hilarious; this was definitely one for the books. After a few moments of surveying the scene, he ran over to his partner, jumping numerous turtles along the way.
"Jon, is everyone okay here?" Ponch called when he almost reached his partner.
"Yeah, Ponch. Just do me a favor and help me pick up these turtles," Jon motioned to the hundreds of turtles surrounding him then began laughing, "Just watch yourself. Some of these love to bite!"
"Jon, Jon, Jon. Don't worry about me. I've handled a few turtles in my day," Ponch proudly spoke as if he was the king of the turtle population. After picking up a few turtles, he came to one huge turtle with various shades of gray and brown on the shell. Excitedly, Ponch exclaimed, "Jon, look! It looks just like Myrtle!"
"Myrtle the Turtle?" Jon tried to contain his laughter.
"Yes, Myrtle the Turtle," Ponch replied calmly then instantly became defensive when he saw Jon doubled-over laughing, "That was my first turtle, okay? I was only seven years old when I got her."
Still laughing, Jon managed to get a few words in between chuckles, "Ponch, I hate to end your reverie, but there's still tons of turtles lying on the highway" then continued seriously, "and angry driversÖand if there's angry drivers, they're going to complainÖthen Gertraer will be on your back. So, uh, now that I've reminded you about this, do you think you could help me?"
"Sure Jon, in a minute. Where's this person who was driving the truck?" Ponch demanded impatiently.
"He's the one in the blue shirt standing on the shoulder. Ponch, what do you want with him?" Jon asked, but it was too late. Ponch had already began running toward the shoulder.
Unsure of what was running through his partner's mind, Jon stood amongst the turtles shaking his head. Carefully, Jon continued picking up turtles and placing them back in their cages for transport to several different animal sites in town. Once again, Jon was doing all the work. He promised himself when they got back to Central, Ponch would write the report.
Meanwhile, on the shoulder, Ponch pleaded with the owner of the turtles to let him have this turtle, "But please, sir, you don't understand. Name your price."
"Unfortunately, sonny, I already promised this turtle to an animal store," the old white-haired man told Ponch in a business-like manner, then his old crackly voice softened slightly, "I'm sorry."
"Yeah," Ponch's normally energetic disposition became rather deadened as he handed over the turtle- his turtle.
Slowly and silently, Ponch headed back to help Jon. From a distance, the man watched the two officers capture the truckload of loose turtles. This old withered man knew in his heart what he must do, but the nagging thought kept entering his mind: it was his prize turtle. He, too, did not want to give her away. Looking down at the turtle's rough skin all the way he walked toward the officers and he finally reached Poncherello.
"Here, she's your's," the old man handed Ponch the turtle.
Instantly, the life came back into Ponch's eyes for one precious second until he realized he could not accept a gift as an officer. He pushed the turtle back toward the man, "I'm sorry, sir, but she would be considered a gift. Officers of the law can not accept anything of the sort," Ponch said in a rehearsed manner as he had done a thousand other times.
"I understand," the man turned away from Ponch and walked a few small steps to the shoulder, then suddenly stopped. He stood there for a moment, looking across the beautiful green wall of grass surrounding the highway. The man thought about how much he owed these officersÖhow much everyone owed these officers. Day in and day out, officers like these two men saved people's lives and helped people when in trouble.
The man tilted his head slightly so he could read the badge, "Poncherello," the man said slowly, "Is that right?"
"Yes, sir."
"This turtle's name is Clarabelle. She eats-"
"Sir, please. I cannot accept her and I already explained why," Ponch interrupted.
"Yes, sonny, you did," the man acknowledged by nodding his head, "But you said as a police officer you cannot accept a gift. That does not mean that you cannot buy her as a civilian. She'll be at the pet store by one o'clock this afternoon. Fifty dollars firm."
"Thank you, sir," Ponch regained excitement in his voice. He then turned to Jon, "Hey, partner! Did you hear that? I'm going to buy me a turtle!"
As the man stroked Clarabelle's rough head for the last time, he whispered under his breath the reason for the high price, "Because she's my prize turtle."
After Jon put the last of the turtles into a cage, he called, "Hey Ponch! Let's get this traffic moving."
"Sure thing, partner!" Ponch was filled with smiles as he began directing traffic.
Once the traffic was swiftly moving again, Jon and Ponch went over to their motorcycles. After strapping on his helmet, Ponch asked, "So are you coming with me to pick up Clarabelle?"
"To tell you the truth, partner," Jon said as he put on his sunglasses and started the engine, "I'm not sure after writing all those reports that you're going to want a new pet."
As soon as Jon had finished talking, he took off down the highway. Sitting on his motor with the helmet on his lap, Ponch watched in disbelief as his partner rode down the road. Ponch could not imagine why Jon would be angry with him. Ponch shrugged his shoulders, strapped on his helmet, slid on his sunglasses and headed down the road.
Once Ponch caught up to Jon, neither mentioned a thing about the incident. Intermittently, they talked about plans for the upcoming weekend. Once they reached Central though, neither talked. Jon walked in, grabbed a stack of report sheets and placed them in front of Ponch.
"Have fun," Jon called as he walked out the door.
A few moments after Jon walked out, Gertraer walked in. "Frank, this is unusual. You doing reports? Is the sky falling outside? No, wait, the world must be going to end tonight. Oh, I know, you have a hot date."
"Actually, none of the above, Sarge," Ponch replied honestly, "Can't a guy help out his partner without having everyone accuse him of something?" Ponch joked.
"No, Frank, not you. If it were anyone else, I'd agree with that. But youÖno, it just doesn't seem right," Gertraer said as he left the room.
Ponch could not concentrate on the reports. Every few seconds he glanced at his watch and looked around the room periodically. Finally, his watch said three o'clock: quitting time. Although he hadn't even finished one report, he was not worried. He knew Jon would come through for him; he always did.
He picked up his helmet and sunglasses then briskly walked out the door. Walking down the long corridor, Ponch smiles warmly to each of his coworkers. He peeks into the employee lounge where he sees Jon quietly sipping a warm cup of coffee. Innately knowing that someone is watching him, Jon looks toward the door and sees his partner.
"So, Ponch, did you finish the reports?" Jon asks seriously.
"No, Jon, I didn't," Ponch's reply sounds like a child who did not finish his homework, "But didn't you notice what time it is? It's quitting time!"
"Glad to see that makes you so happy, Poncherello," Gertraer calls from behind.
"Ah, Sarge, you know how much I love this place!" Ponch turns to him for a moment but then looks at Jon, "So, partner, are you coming with me to pick up Clarabelle?"
"Ponch, I really-" Jon looks into his partner's big sorrowful brown eyes then changes his mind in mid-sentence, "Sure. I guess it could wait a while."
Instantly, Ponch erases the sorrowful look and replaces it with pure joy. "Thanks, Jon. So are you ready? I can't wait to pick up Clarabelle."
"Clarabelle?" Gertraer echoes, "Who's Clarabelle?"
Panicking, Ponch looks at Jon for help. There is no way Ponch could explain Clarabelle is a turtle. If he had known Sarge was still behind him, he would have never mentioned the name.
"Um, Clarabelle is a girl Ponch offered to take care of for a while," Jon tries explaining.
"That's funny. Frank told me he wasn't going out tonight," Gertraer replies as he stares at Ponch waiting for an explanation.
Dodging his superior's glare, Ponch waves to Jon to follow him. "See you tomorrow, Sarge!"
Speechless, Gertraer watched the two of them as they walked down the hall. Frank Poncherello was one of the officers who would never cease to amaze him. Rubbing his temples, Gertraer headed back to his office. He had a stack of work to complete by morning at the Lieutenant's request; it would probably take him part of the night to finish. Much too quickly to suit Gertraer, day became into night and in turn, night transformed into day.
As the Sergeant finished the last of his paperwork, just down the hall many of the uniformed highway patrol officers filed into briefing. Everyone believed it was just another day until Ponch walked in carrying his helmet which seemed to have grown rough slender legs overnight.
"Ponch, are you sure this is a good idea? You know how angry Gertraer would be if he found out you brought a turtle to join the CHP?" Jon whispered behind him.
"Ah, partner, you worry too much! Sarge won't find out. Clarabelle is a very well-behaved turtle," Ponch whispers in reply then raises his voice so that it carries through the room, "Why is it so quiet in here anyway?"
"Uh, Ponch," Grossie began then Baricza finished, "What in the world is that?"
"You've never seen a turtle before?" Ponch laughed at the strange looks on their faces.
"Well, sure, Ponch," Grossie answered, "Just never at Central."
At that, Gertraer wandered into the room in a daze ready for briefing. Hurriedly, Ponch took a seat by his partner in the back of the room and placed his helmet on the table in front of him. Without more than a mumbled good morning, Gertraer began briefing. Periodically, Jon scribbled down a few notes in his book. Ponch, on the other hand, paid more attention to his new turtle rather than the information at hand. Then he began thinking about his favorite turtle, Myrtle, until suddenly the room became dead quiet.
Gertraer rubbed his eyes for a minute, then opened them again only to see the same scene in front of him: a helmet slowly moving across the table. He thought he was lacking sleep and hallucinating, but obviously this site is real.
Jon saw exactly where Gertraer was looking so he whispered to Ponch, "Grab your helmet- NOW!"
Alarmed, Ponch looked down and sure enough the helmet was moving. Smoothly, he smiled and placed his hand on top of the helmet. Without saying a word, he continued to watch the Sergeant to begin briefing once again.
To his dismay, Gertraer asked, "Frank, what is inside your helmet? Is this some kind of practical joke?"
Looking around, Ponch nervously replied, "Would you believe it's a turtle? How she got here, well it's a long story, Sarge."
"Hit the bricks everyone," Gertraer announced. As soon as he said this, Ponch leapt from his seat and headed toward the door. "Poncherello!" Gertraer called then smiled cynically, "I have all the time in the world."
"Turtle Tales" ©1998 Julie Radachy. "CHiPs" and its characters © Metro Goldwyn Mayer, Inc. All rights reserved. " No infringement of any copyrights or trademarks is intended or should be inferred. This is a work of fiction, and any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
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