The Fate of the Flaming Fedora

An Emergency! Fable

By Cindy Gifford

Once upon a time in the Land of La there lived a man. His name was Hank Stanley. He was a brave, strong firefighter in that wonderful city and he loved his work. Hank worked his way through the department. Putting in his time, passing all his tests, until he attained the rank of engineer. What a day that was! His first day driving that big, beautiful, red fire truck. The chrome sparkled in the sunlight sending streamers of light everywhere. Hank polished, polished and polished some more until the chrome was practically blinding.. He was so proud of his baby. He thought there was nothing quite as beautiful on this whole earth as that fire truck (but please, don't tell his wife that!)

Hank had a wonderful captain at this station that he loved. His name was Captain McConikee and he was an upright and fair man. He was the type of man Hank hope he could someday be. A man that his men would look up to and admire. Captain McConikee would always listen to all sides of a story before making a decision. He never jumped to any conclusions and his men were always innocent until unmistakably proven guilty. Everything was perfect in Hank's life until that fateful day.

It started out like any other day in that Wonderful Land of La. The sun was shining. The birds were singing and the men all whistled happily as they polished the equipment in the station.

Captain McConikee had a meeting at battalion headquarters and would be out of the station for several hours that day. Before he left, he assigned the daily chores to his men. They worked feverishly to complete their duties to please their captain.

When Hank had finished all the polishing that needed to be done on the fire truck he went on to his next chore. Hank was a neat and organized person so he was often given the job of straightening up Captain McConikee's office. Captain McConikee, being a busy man, often did not have time to keep his office as tidy as he would like. He often made use of Hank's talents to help him in this matter. Hank, having worked with the captain for quite a while, knew just what his boss wanted.

He began by emptying all the trash cans. Next, he moved to the piles of papers sitting around on the desk. He straightened them all and even went through some of the bigger piles and separated them in order of their importance. Hank worked quickly so he would be finished when his captain returned. As Hank's long arm reached across the desk to move one last pile a little closer to the edge, he heard a dull thud. He moved to the opposite side of the desk to see what had made the offending sound. As he looked down, a wave of panic crashed over his tall, lean body. There, in front of him, was a sight he could not believe.

A small bottle of red touch up paint was laying on it's side. The cap had come off and a stream of crimson was rolling down the edge of the desk, dripping down and splattering on the carpet. But the carpet wasn't what brought panic to Hank. It was the sight of the small crack in the bottom drawer. That drawer wasn't just any drawer. It was THE drawer!!! The drawer where Captain McConikee kept his most prized possession. He favorite dress uniform captain's hat!!!!!

Hank quickly sat the paint container upright and wiped the crimson stream up with a rag that he had stuffed in his pocket. Then slowly, cautiously, Hank opened the drawer. What he saw caused an audible gasp to escape from his lips. There in the drawer was the hat. Thousands of tiny red dots splattered across the snow white surface. His breath came in short, quick pants as he attempted not to hyperventilate.

A shaking hand reached out to pick up the damaged fedora. The paint had managed to splatter over the entire surface of the head gear. Hank's thoughts reeled. What was he to do? He couldn't let anyone else see this. He opened the door a crack, hat in hand, and checked to see if the coast was clear.

Quickly he ducked into the kitchen. It was empty since the remaining crew were out back hanging hose. Quickly, Hank rummaged in the cleaning supply closet to find something to attack the offending stains.

Suddenly, like a beacon in the night, Hank's eyes spied the two most wonderful words he had ever seen. SPOT REMOVER. He quickly grabbed the bottle, not fully reading the label, and headed for the soiled sombrero. Working furiously, he applied the sacred solution to the spots. To Hank's amazement, it was working! The spots were coming out!!!

Hank's movements were quick and efficient as he worked to complete his goal before his captain returned. Finally, it was complete. The spots were gone! Hank let out a sigh of relief.

As he turned to put the spot remover back into the closet he heard a soft Poof! When he turned around what he saw caused his knees to go weak. There, on the counter, next to the stove where a pot of beef stew boiled was Captain McConikee's hat, ablaze with flames!!! Hank looked down at the bottle in his hand and saw the dreaded phrase written in bold letters across the label: DO NOT USE NEAR OPEN FLAME.

Hank dove for the hat, grabbing it by it's brim. He turned to head for the sink, which was on the other side of the room and came face to face with none other than Captain McConikee, himself!!!

Hank froze. His mouth dropped open but he was unable to say a word. McConikee stared at the hat now burning dangerously close to Hank's hand. As the heat from the fire seared Hank's fingers, he dropped the burning bonnet onto the floor, instinctively stomping out the flames.

All was silent. Several thin snakes of smoke rose from the ashes that once were Captain McConikee's most prized possession. Finally, without a word, Captain McConikee turned and retreated into his office. Hank stood alone, trembling. He didn't know what to do but he knew his captain was a fair, just man.

Pulling together all his strength, Hank walked to the captain's office. He knocked twice, then paused.

"In!" McConikee called to him. Slowly, Hank opened the door. His commanding officer sat, staring at the open drawer. Stains of red paint still visible down the front of the desk. He looked at Hank, emotionless. Hank stuttered, trying to explain, but McConikee stopped him.

"Your a good man, Stanley. I know that whatever occurred today was not done intentionally. But let me just say one thing. One day you will have something that means more to you then anything else in the world. Then someone will come along and rip it away from you and there will be nothing you can do to stop it. Don't ever forget that. Dismissed."

Hank locked eyes with his captain. There he saw anger, hurt and rage, but this was all contained by his strong self control. Were these words from his captain a warning, a threat or both?? Hank hung his head and left the office.

Eventually, things got back to normal in the Land of La. There was no disciplinary action towards Hank. Captain McConikee treated Hank as impartially as the rest of the men on his shift but a dark cloud of impending doom always hung over Hank's head. He waited, always looking over his shoulder, for Captain McConikee's prophesy to come true.

So remember: When traveling down the road of life, don't count your chicken's before their hatched, always look before you leap and most importantly, Always read the directions first!

The End

"The Fate of the Flaming Fedora" ©1999 Cindy Gifford. "Emergency!" and its characters © Mark VII Productions, 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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