24 ~ Gillis & Pickle Do Group Therapy With Senior Citizens


Gillis and Pickle cuffed the seniors to each other in a circle surrounding the SUV. 

Gillis said, “Heads up. You’re going to miss the senior special at the Golden Wok. I’ll let you go, if the pimp steps forward.”

“George, for once take one for the team,” said Margie an octogenarian sputtered without her set of lower teeth in her mouth.

“I’m not a pimp. I can’t even get it up,” whined George.

“Haven’t you heard of Viagra?” complained Ellen. “I’ve had to carry on affair with Jimmy the janitor because you’re too cheap to make the copay.”

“Let it all out. I can tell this group is stuffing the anger,” said Pickle.

“Damn right!” said a bent over bald headed male. “Ethel’s more concerned about eating chocolates than she is about doing my laundry. I’m wearing the same underpants for three weeks. Hell, her tits sag down to her belly button.”

Ethel said, “I’m not going to sleep nude with you anymore.”

The bald headed guy responded, “”Good. I won’t have nightmares.”

Gillis waved Pickle off. He said, “Keep it going. You’re making progress. Consider this group therapy. My partner and I can’t waste any more time with you. We’re hungry. We’re heading into the buffet. We’ll release you when we’re finished if you’ve all worked out your anger. I’ll make sure the manager will honor your discount.”

A matronly, late seventies woman with too much makeup and enough lipstick to paint a house said, “I go to bed early. If you come by at six, you’ll get lucky.”

Gillis pulled Pickle away from seniors, he whispered, “I never figured senior women to be so sexually aggressive.”

“If you don’t take her offer, do you mind if sub for you?” asked Pickle.

Before Gillis could answer, an old man hollered, “I can’t post bail, my retirement check doesn’t come in until next week.”

Pickle turned back and answered, “Do I look like your rabbi?”

Fist bump.

Gillis and Pickle headed into the Golden Wok. Gillis spotted several tables with reserved signs on them. He grabbed two menus off the counter and motioned to Pickle to head into the seating area. 

“The seniors won’t be needing reserved seating, Dill. Let’s take this table,” said Gillis.

Pickle picked up the reserved sign and put it in his pocket. “Never know when this can come in handy, Gills.”

Gillis nodded and motioned Pickle to take a seat. Gillis held a novel sized menu in front of him. He was on page two of the twenty-page menu. 

Pickle glanced over at the Golden Wok’s super buffet. He said, “I think everything on the menu is on the buffet, Gills. To bad the seniors can’t be here. By the time they finish fighting with each other, they’ll be too tired to eat.”

“Take a look, Dill. The place is overrun with seniors crowded. We’re lucky to have a seat. Must be a senior’s convention in town. I’m thinking Cap might give us a commendation. This is way I’ll write it up. I’ll say I cited the driver for driving to endanger and wrongful parking in a parking place designated for police emergencies. I’ll describe how we had to cuff the bunch for assault and battery with dangerous weapons namely, canes, walkers, and urine sacks. Shameful they way they fought over their teeth. The good part will be when I tell Cap, we released them after they promised to practice safe sex.”

Pickle glanced around at the seniors and the staff. He said, “Do you think anyone will know we’re cops?”

“Not a chance. Keep your eyes open for anyone named Sonata Vowel and for anyone with only one cuff link. Don’t say anything, here comes the waiter,” cautioned Gillis.

A six foot three inch bald black male dressed in black pants, black shirt, and white tie stopped at the table. “I know you’re cops. You working undercover?”

Gillis glanced up from the menu, “I’ve seen you in the lineup, Do Re. When did you get out? Remember me, I busted you and saved you from a life of crime.”

“Gillis, I didn’t recognize you. Nice piece you’re wearing. I can get you a piece made out of human hair and not horse hair if you want. All I ask is a little quid pro quo. You know what I mean?”

Gillis nodded. 

“I get you the piece. You overlook all the illegals working here and pretend that my brothers Leon and Buttercup are Chinese.”

“Not so fast, Do Re. Here’s my counter. I want two of your most romantic meals put into to go boxes. I want four fortune cookies. Two cookies read It is your good fortune to sleep with Gillis tonight. The other two read, It is your good fortune to sleep with Wendy tonight in the bed she shared with Pat. If you can do this, we got ourselves a deal.”

“I’ll have to send out for the fortune cookies. You want a romantic meal, I’ll have to send out for that too. My brothers and I never eat here. The food’s terrible. The odds are 7 to 1 in favor of getting salmonella poisoning. We’ll have a deal if you ignore the dice game going on over in the corner, the pimp at the bar, and drug dealer in the last booth.”

Gillis checked out the scene, “Not a problem, Do Re. You deserve a citation for moving crime inside and off the streets.”

“Appreciate the compliment, Gillis. I am familiar with the foxy medical examiner you are trying to bed. I’m here to help you score,” said Do Re extending his hand to fist bump Gillis cementing the deal. Do Re added, “You ready to order?”

Gillis said, “Two buffets, charge it to the police department. Add a one-hundred percent tip for yourself. Everybody does it,” said Gillis.

Do Re said, “I heard of the one-hundred percent tip when it’s on the expense account. Okay. I come back with your beers and your check. Here’s a tip, we don’t serve Chinese food. We serve barbecue, black eyed peas, grits, potatoes and gravy, okra, fried chicken, and any other food that raises bad cholesterol.”

“I thought this was a Chinese restaurant,” said Pickle.

“The name’s only a front for the illegal offenses we’re running inside here. You don’t want to eat our food. The kitchen help doesn’t wash their hands after they go to the bathroom, we got roaches so big you can put a saddle on them, and you don’t want to ask me about the meat.”

“What do you recommend?” asked Pickle feeling queasy.

“Do what I do and send out for pizza. I’ll order a couple of pizza’s, it’s on the house.”

“Mind if we walk around. My partner lost a cuff link last week and we’re trying to find it,” said Gillis.

“He lost it here?” asked Do Re.

“No, he lost it at the donut shop on 21st Street. We thought the wind might have blown it this way,” said Gillis.

“Good luck,” said Do Re turning around mumbling to himself.

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