Starskys Lady

The first thing that made Starsky realize Hutch was up to something was the fact that he carried a little red book with him, wrote something in it now and then and put it in his pocket without saying a word.

The second thing that made him wonder what Hutch was doing, was the fact that his partner kept mumbling things Starsky didn’t understand.

But the main reason for Starsky’s suspicion was the fact that Hutch seemed to live in another world sometimes and Starsky didn’t like that one bit.

“Something wrong, partner?” he asked on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, while they were driving their beat, “You hardly said a word all week.”

“Huh?” Hutch answered, “Wait a second Starsk, I’m thinking.”

“I can see that, but why don’t you let me in on the secret. I’m beginning to feel a little lonely here.”

“Huh?” Hutch said again, still in thought.

“Hello! Are you there? Anybody home?”

“Shh,” Hutch hissed, “Be quiet, I’m trying to figure something out.”

“What?” Starsky snapped, finally getting angry, “What are you figuring out and why don’t I know about it?”

Hutch sighed. “It has nothing to do with you. It’s something I’m working on.”

“Huuutch! If you don’t talk to me now I’m gonna have to kill you and tell everybody you drove me mad and I’ll plead insanity at the trial and they’ll understand why I did it when I tell them you …”

“Starsky!” Hutch yelled, “Breathe!”

“ Didn’t talk to me for a week.” Starsky finished his sentence.

“Are you done?”

“I’m done, but you’re not. Start talking to me or…”

“I know, you’ll have to kill me and so on.”

“Right,” Starsky nodded with satisfaction, “I see that the message came through. Now, are you gonna tell me what you’re doing or do I have to torture you?”

“You torture me every day with your never ending stories about anything you can think of, so that won’t work.”

“I could think of something else to force you to tell me what you’re doing?”

“I’m sure you can, but all I do is my job.”

“Is that so? So, not listening to your partner, the one you work with and mumbling and writing down magic words in a red book is your job?”

“Yeah…well…no but you know what I mean. Stop hassling me about nothing.”

Starsky yanked the steering wheel to the right and stopped the car, the right front- wheel on the curb.

“I’m gonna have to throw you out, Hutchinson.  It’s that or kill you.”

“Oh come on Starsk, how’re you gonna explain that to Dobey, uh?”

“The same way as I’d have to explain why I killed you, you made me do it!”

“But I didn’t do anything.” Hutch said exasperated.

“That’s why I’m throwing you out of my car. You’re not doing anything except annoying me and writing down things without telling me what.”

“But Starsk, they’re private notes. It’s none of your business.”

“Since when is something important to you none of my business?”

“I don’t know, always I guess.”

“That’s news to me buddy, I always thought we didn’t have secrets.”

“Of course we have secrets. I’m sure you have secrets I don’t know about.”

Starsky said nothing but drove the car away from the curb. Hutch sighed in relief and leaned back in the car seat.

“You know,” Starsky said, peering through the window, “there’s always a chance I could help you out.”

I should have known, he never gives up.

“No, you can’t Starsk.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it’s…um…oh boy, I’d better tell you I guess.”

“I knew you’d come to your senses.”

“That’s not how I’d say it. I’d say I have no sense at all.”

“Of course you have, you’re a sensible guy. I should know, I’ve known you for years now.”

“How many years have we known each other Starsk?” Hutch tried to sidetrack Starsky.

“Is this important for the stuff you’re writing down?”

“Could be.”

“We need a break.” Starsky said, “So we can talk about this properly.”

“We’re in the middle of a shift, we can’t just take a break.”

“Of course we can. Besides, I think I need to ask Huggy about Donovan.”

“Donovan? What do you need to know about that slime ball?”

“Where he is for instance.”

“We already asked Hug about him.”

“Have to keep up to date with him. You never know what he found out.”

“He’d call us when there’s news.”

“Maybe his phone’s out of order.”

“Starsky, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Always be prepared Hutch, never take things for granted.” Starsky lectured, “What if there’s real hot news and his phone is out of order. What if we catch the weasel because we checked on Hug and found out that he’s mugged and lying half dead in The Pits, waiting for us to tell us where Donovan is but….”

“I get it, I get it! Okay, The Pits it is then.”

“See? You’re a sensible guy. I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Starsky parked the car in the alley behind The Pits and turned to Hutch, “We’re here.”

Hutch rolled his eyes, “I can see that, moron.”

“Come on; let’s see if Hug has something to tell us.”

“Can’t you go and look if he’s all right?” Hutch tried, but he didn’t have a chance.

“No, we have to go together; I might need back-up.”

“But it’s raining.” Hutch tried again.

“So what, you’re not made of sugar, are you? Get out the damn car and hurry, will you.”

“Did anybody ever tell you you’re a pain in the ass sometimes?”

“Sure they did. Now, come on.”

“Okay, hold your horses.”

“The horses are on hold but I’m not. I need a drink.”

“We’re on duty,” Hutch muttered, getting out of the car.

“Then I need coffee, suits me fine.”

They entered the kitchen and walked right through to the bar, where Huggy sat at a table reading the newspaper.

“Hey, my two heroes. What brings you here this early, my friends?”

“An appetite for coffee and a quiet table.” Starsky answered, looking around.

Huggy stood up and waved his arm through the air, “As you see, gents, there are some empty tables.”

The bar was empty and Starsky grinned. “Would you bring us two coffees and the Huggy special? You too, Hutch?”

“No, coffee is fine.”

“We’ll be sitting over there Hug.” Starsky pointed at a table at the back of the bar.

“Nice to let me know where I can find you, Starsk. I’d never find you if you hadn’t.”

“Any time Hug, any time.”

Hutch followed Starsky to the table reluctantly. I could turn around and run…

“Forget it Hutch, we’re gonna talk, so don’t you even try to escape.”

“What are you? A mind reader?”

“No, but it’s what I would try if you forced me to tell a secret.”

They sat down and Hutch felt more anxious by the minute. “It seems that Hug is fine Starsk, can’t we just go and finish our shift?”

“No, I just ordered a Huggy special and I intend to eat that. I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

Well, it must be that Japanese…Oh shit, let’s not get over that again, wouldn’t want Hug get involved in a shooting.”

Hutch blanched at the memory of that night, not so very long ago, “I don’t want to get involved in a shooting either.”

“No, I’m sure you won’t. So, what’s with the red book uh?”

“What red book?” was the almost automatic given answer.

Starsky sighed and let his head rest against the wall behind him. He looked up at the ceiling and said, “The red book you’ve kept with you for a week now and where you keep writing stuff in. That red book.”

“Oh, you mean this red book?” Hutch held up a little, red notebook and opened it.

“Can I see it?”

“No, it’s mine and it’s private.”

“What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.” Starsky said, holding out his hand.

“So the Torino is mine too uh?”

“No, she’s not! You don’t even like her.”

“But you just said…”

“Forget what I said. Since when do you listen to what I say?”

“Can we go on with this after we had our coffee?” Hutch desperately asked, afraid that Starsky would go on and on and that he’d have to explain to Huggy what this was all about.

“Okay.” Starsky shrugged, “Ah, here’s my Huggy special. Come here delicious burger.”

For a moment Hutch hoped he’d forget all about red books but inwardly he shook his head; Starsky wouldn’t forget anything and certainly not the mysterious red book.

Almost disgusted he watched his friend eating the enormous hamburger with all the trimmings and some more.

“Don’t think I’ll look after you when your stomach gives up on you.” He warned, “How can you eat that after the lunch you ate?”

Starsky chewed, swallowed and said, ”I thought we’d agreed on not talking about lunch?”

Hutch held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, but don’t forget I warned you.”

“You want some?” Starsky offered, but Hutch was sure he wouldn’t be able to swallow down a single bite and shook his head, “No thanks.”

“Nervous?” Starsky asked, a smile in his eyes.

“No, why should I be nervous?”

“Maybe because you’re about to reveal that big secret of yours?”

“It’s not a secret Starsk, it’s more…um…it’s more something I always wanted to do and now…well, now seemed the right time somehow.”

Starsky had finished his Huggy special and looked at Hutch expectantly, “Tell me, I promise I won’t laugh.”

Hutch picked up his coffee cup, took a sip and blurted out, his eyes closed, “I’m going to write a book and I’m making notes, that’s what I’m writing down all the time, notes.”

“Wow,” Starsky was speechless for once and looked at Hutch with clear admiration on his face.

“You’re gonna write a book?”

“Well, I’m gonna try.”

“What’s it about?”

“I thought I’d write a crime novel. At least, that’s something familiar.”

“Wow,” said Starsky again, “Is it almost finished?”

“Not yet, such things take time.”

“When did you start?”

“Last week.” Hutch mumbled.

“Last year?”

“No, last week.”

“Oh.”

There was a silence and Hutch waited for the inevitable question.

“You need help?”

“Don’t think so.”

“I could do some research for you.”

“Starsky, I can do my own research.”

“Yeah, but when I do that for you, you can use your valuable time writing the book. Tell me what you need to know. Do you write about real crimes? The ones we investigated?”

“No, that would be unethical.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t write a book about people without having their permission.”

“But you can make it an auto-biography.”

“I don’t feel the need to write about my own life.”

“Why not? The adventures of two undercover cops. Sounds great to me.”

“You’re not going to be in the book Starsk and that’s final.”

“I’m not? But I’m your best friend and your partner. Why won’t I be in the book?”

“Because it’s not about me or you.”

“Too bad. I bet it would have been a best-seller.”

“That’s the difference between me and you Starsk, you’d write a book, if you could,” Hutch smirked, “to make money and fame but I write for the sake of writing. The art of writing is so beautiful when you use the right words in the right…how do you call that…”

“You really have a way with words Hutch, for a writer.”

“I need to be in the right mood to write. I can’t write over a cup of coffee in a bar.”

“What’s wrong with my coffee?” Huggy asked from behind Hutch.

Hutch hung his head, “Nothing, there’s nothing wrong with your coffee Hug.”

“Hutch is writing a book Hug, and I’m not in it.”

Hutch scowled at Starsky and gave him the Hutchinson finger. “You are so dead, Starsky!”

“Hey, my man, you’re writing a book? You’re gonna mention this particular establishment in it? That would bring me so many more customers.”

“You two are such philistines, “ Hutch fumed, “I’m out of here.” He practically jumped from his chair and left the bar without looking back.

“I got the car keys,” Starsky grinned, “He’ll cool down in a minute.”

Huggy took Hutch’s chair and sat down. “Is he really writing a book?”

“Sure is. And I’m gonna help him with the research.”

“Way to go Starsky! You’re gonna be famous.”

“Yep and rich. Now I’m gonna see what our writer is doing. Can’t let the artist catch a cold now, can I?”

“Keep the man warm and feed him enough to let the inspiration flow.”

“You can count on it Hug. See ya.”

“See ya Starsky.”

Starsky found Hutch, still furious, pacing the kerb in front of The Pits. His hands were clinched and his hair dripped from the still falling rain.

Starsky suppressed a laugh and said, “Come on Hutch, we got work to do.”

Hutch looked at him and it was obvious that he was still angry at him. “I’ve had enough for today; let’s call it a day.”

“Fine by me, it’s quiet anyhow. Must be the rain.” Starsky muttered.

They entered The Pits again and walked through the bar to the backdoor.

“I hope you’ll be inspired to write tonight Hutch.” Huggy called after them but Hutch said nothing, gave Starsky a dirty look and opened the door.

“It’s all your fault,” he growled, when they were outside, “You just couldn’t keep your blabbermouth shut for once, could you?”

“But Hutch, Huggy is our friend! What’s wrong with telling a friend about your hidden talents?”

“What’s wrong?” Hutch said, when they sat in the car, “What’s wrong is that you always spoil things for me. It’s my hidden talent and you just gabble about it to anyone you see. If I wanted Hug to know I would have told him myself.”

Starsky turned the key in the ignition and the Torino’s engine came to life. He revved the engine and drove out of the alley.

“I didn’t mean to spoil things for you Hutch, I’m just so excited about you writing a book. I never even met a writer and now I know one and it’s my best friend.”

The excitement in Starsky’s voice made Hutch smile. Sometimes you’re just a little kid aren’t you buddy?

“But Starsk,” he said out loud, “I’m not a writer, I’m just trying to write a book. It’s always been my dream.”

“I’m sure you can do it Hutch and I’m sure it’s gonna be a success.”

Hutch felt his bad mood disappear like snow in the sun. “Thanks Starsk, I’m sure gonna try to make it a good book. Maybe a crime novel isn’t such a good idea after all. Too close to home.”

“Why don’t you write a horror book, you know, with lots of blood and zombies?”

Hutch snorted, “Yeah, right. Fat chance I’m gonna write a zombie book.”

“Okay, what about a cook-book? You know everything about health food and you can cook a decent meal.”

“That’s not enough to write a cook-book Starsky. You have to be a cook to do that.”

“Really? You think there are many cooks writing their own book?”

“They use ghost writers for the actual writing; the cook gives the ideas and the recipes.”

“Ghost writer? What’s that?”

“A real writer who does the writing but won’t have his name on the book.”

“Are there really writers who do that?”

“Sure, why not? It pays very well.”

“I’d never write a book for someone else. What’s the fun of that?”

“Maybe no fun,” Hutch agreed, “but it pays the bills.”

Starsky thought about that for a moment. “I bet they’re lousy writers who won’t make a buck with their own stuff.”

Hutch laughed, “Could very well be.”

“I think you should stick to your first idea and write a crime novel.”

“Nah, I think I’m gonna try a romantic novel.”

“A romantic novel? You mean about a boy and a girl falling in love and that kind of things?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s something people like to read.”

“But you know nothing about love.”

“I don’t? Why not?”

“You are divorced and you can’t keep a girl for longer than two weeks. How in the world could you write a love book?"

“Thanks a lot buddy. You’re miserable vote of confidence means a lot to me.”

“Ah, you know what I mean. I just said it the wrong way.”

“Take me home Starsk, I’ve had it for today.”

“Log us out, will you?”

Hutch logged them out and Starsky drove to Venice Place. He parked the car in front of Hutch’s front door and opened the car door.

“I need time alone Starsk, I need to isolate myself from the distractions of the outside world to get in the mood of the story.”

“But…”

“Not tonight, I think I just got an idea.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“You’ll have to wait, I need to work it out first.”

“Aw, but I’m your best friend! You can tell me your ideas.”

“No”, Hutch stood his ground, “Don’t you know that writing is a lonely job? A writer needs time to think the plot out and to get acquainted with his characters.”

“Really? Hm, sounds boring to me.”

“That’s because you’re not a writer. You don’t know about those things.”

“Is that so? Maybe you’re right. Is it okay to call you later?”

“Why would you wanna call me later?”

“To see how you’re doing?”

“Geez Starsk, I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that, but I want to know if you’re all right.”

“Okay, you can call me at ten tonight.”

“Great! I can’t wait to see what you’ve written.”

Hutch left the car and said, “You’ll have to wait, just like everybody else. I’m not gonna reveal anything of the book until I’m ready.”

“Okay, see you later then.”

“See you tomorrow.” Hutch answered and walked away from the car.

“That’s what you think.” Starsky said, making sure Hutch couldn’t hear him.

Hutch climbed up the stairs to the first floor, opened his door and kicked it shut behind him.

His typewriter was waiting for him on the kitchen table and after he’d hung his wet coat to dry, he sat down at the table and pulled the half written paper out of the typewriter. “That stinks,” he said to himself, took a new sheet and stared at it. I’m ready to start, where‘s the inspiration?”

He couldn’t think of anything to start his story with and decided that some romantic music could do the trick.

“That’s better,” he mumbled when soft music played in the background, “Now I need a beer and then I’m ready to roll.”

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and stared out the kitchen window. It was still raining and the grey sky seemed to fit his mood. “What’s so hard about writing a book?” he asked himself, “It’s just a story and I know enough of failed relationships to write an entire series.”

He sat down again and stared at the empty sheet of paper that seemed to mock him. “I’m gonna write a book and I’m gonna write it now,” he told the paper that was waiting patiently to be filled with words.

He drank half the beer, took a deep breath, put his fingers on the keys and started typing with two fingers.

Once started, he kept on typing and forgot everything around him.

Around ten there was a knock on the door and Hutch startled back to the present. “Shit, who the hell can that be?”

Before he could reach the door, it was opened and Starsky came in, a pizza box in his hand.

“Hey Hutch, here’s some food for the hungry artist.”

“Starsky! What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m here to feed you, what do you think?”

“I can feed myself, don’t need you to do that for me.”

“As far as I know, beginner writers are poor and they need someone to feed them.”

“Oh grow up Starsky! I’m not poor, I’ve got a job and I don’t need you or anyone else to feed me.”

“I take it you’re not hungry then?”

“Gimme the pizza. Might as well eat it, now that you’re here.”

“You got any beer left?”

“Yeah,” Hutch sighed, knowing this interruption could be there for a while, “Help yourself.”

Starsky grabbed a beer and sat down at the table, opposite Hutch. Curious he looked at the modest pile of papers, lying beside the typewriter. “I see you’ve been busy.”

“It took me a while to get into the story but I think I got it now.”

“Can I read it?”

“No, you can’t!”

“Aw, come on Hutch, just one chapter.”

“I said no Starsk, and that’s what it is, no!”

“Please?”, Starsky begged, his hand crawling towards the papers.

“Are you deaf or something? Starsky! Give me that paper.”

But Starsky had one of the papers in his hand and didn’t think of giving it back. He started reading, mumbling some lines out loud, “Mary writhed beneath Terence…Terence? What kind of name is Terence? Couldn’t you come up with a better name? Where was I? Oh yes, while he nibbled at her pert niffles…what are niffles Blintz?”

“Not niffles, nipples. Must be a typo.”

“Geez Hutch, this is hot stuff. Give me the rest of the story.”

“Give it back Starsk, it’s not ready for the public yet.”

Starsky grinned, “I can see that buddy, I mean ‘niffles’.”

“Cut it out Starsky! I said I wasn’t ready yet. Now give it back to me.”

“No, I wanna read it. I’m curious bout the niffles thing.”

With one big step Hutch stood before him and grabbed at the paper, but Starsky’s hand disappeared behind his back. “I wanna read this, it’s hot stuff.”

“Too hot for kids like you, so give it back.”

Starsky stepped backwards, hand still behind his back. “I brought you pizza; that should count for something.” He started negotiating, “Just one chapter Hutch, please.”

Hutch shook his head and followed every step Starsky made. “Give….it….to….me.”

“I can help you with the next chapter.”

“Give it back.”

“I can tell you things, that’ll make this book a best-seller.”

“Give!”

“I could ask Dobey to give you a few days off so you can write in peace.”

“Nice try partner, but I want my paper back.”

Starsky stood with his back against the wall and Hutch took a last step to corner him, a victorious smile on his face. “You can’t run away from me buddy, so give me my page.”

Starsky ducked under his outstretched arm and tried to run but Hutch grabbed him around the waist and they both fell on the kitchen floor. They landed with a thud and another, snapping, sound and then Starsky screamed, “I’ve broken my arm, I’ve broken my fucking arm!”

Hutch froze and shocked he looked at Starsky, who grabbed his right arm, writhing in pain on his kitchen floor.

“Starsk?,” he whispered, dazed by the sight of his friend in pain, “are you…are you all right?”

 “No,” Starsky moaned, “My arm, I think it’s broken.”

“L-let me take a look, uh?”

He didn’t wait for an answer but carefully sat down besides Starsky. “Let me see Starsk, come on, let me have a look uh?”

“O-okay.”

“Take your hand away, buddy, I can’t see what’s wrong when you’re holding your arm like that.”

“It hurts, Hutch, it hurts like hell.”

“I know and I’ll be careful, I promise.”

One look at Starsky’s arm told him it was really broken.

“It’s broken.” He said softly.

“Told you so.”

“Yeah, you did and you were right. Come on, I’m gonna take you to the hospital.”

He helped Starsky sit up. “You think you can walk?”

“Gimme a minute to catch my breath.”

“I can make you a sling.”

Starsky grimaced, “That’s fine.”

Hutch stood up, held his left leg against Starsky’s back to support him and opened a drawer. He grabbed a clean dishtowel and sat down on the floor again, Starsky still leaning against his leg. It wasn’t the most comfortable position but he didn’t care. He folded the dishtowel into a makeshift sling and draped it around Starsky’s neck. “This is gonna hurt Starsk.” He said when he took the broken limb and placed it carefully in the sling.

“Aw shit, shit, shit.” Starsky swore and tensed when the pain increased by the movement.

“Relax Starsk, try to relax.”

“Easy…easy for you to say.”

“I’m sorry pal, it’s all my fault.”

“C-can w-we talk…about that…later?” Starsky panted.

“Yeah, sure. You think you can walk now?”

“Won’t let you…carry me…again.”

“Come on, I’ll help you.”

Hutch put his arm around Starsky’s waist and helped him on his feet. Starsky stood swaying for a few seconds but managed to take the first steps after he’d regained his equilibrium.

Hutch kept his arm around his friend and slowly they made their way to the door.

“Wait, I need my car keys.”

“Take mine, they’re in…my …pocket.”

“Uh, no I don’t think so. Don’t wanna cause you more pain by searching your pockets. Not in those jeans.”

Starsky’s left hand dug in his jeans pocket and came up with the keys. “Here…you are.”

Hutch took the keys from him and asked, “Are you ready to go down the stairs?”

“Sure,” Starsky answered with more confidence than he felt, “Piece of cake.”

“Okay then, but be careful.”

Together they walked down the stairs, Hutch still holding Starsky by the waist and almost physically sick at the thought that he’d caused this accident.

When they finally reached the car, they both were panting and sweating and with a sigh Starsky sat down in the car. “Drive carefully Hutch, no reason to wreck the Torino too.”

The waiting room of the ER was over-crowded and they couldn’t find an empty chair. Hutch looked around for a nurse, still holding Starsky, but couldn’t find one. “Just our luck,” he said, “Probably an accident. I need to find you a place to sit down buddy.”

Starsky shook his head, “I’m fine Hutch, really, the pain is not too bad and I’m not dizzy anymore.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better but I want you to sit down anyway.”

He took his badge, held it up and yelled, ”Can anyone find a seat for a wounded police officer?”

“Hutch!” Starsky whispered embarrassed, “cut it out! It’s okay, I’m fine.”

An old lady stood up and said, “You can take my chair, officer. I can stand for a while.”

“Aw, no Ma’am, thank you, but I’ll be fine. It’s not so bad. My friend here got a little overexcited.”

“Are you sure, young man? You look a little pale to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Starsky smiled, blushing, “I think I broke my arm and it hurts, but no reason for you to give up your chair.”

Hutch spotted a nurse rushing in and without thinking he hurried to her. “Is there a doctor who can have a look at my partner?”

The older woman looked at him, and then looked around and answered, “He’ll have to wait.”

“But he’s hurting.”

The nurse shrugged, “He’s not the only one. Is he bleeding out? Is he unconscious? Did he lose a limb?”

“Um, no but he broke his arm and he’s hurting.”

“So am I,” she said, “but do you hear me complain?”

“He’s a police officer.” Hutch tried desperately.

“I’m sorry, but as long as he is in no real danger of dying he’ll have to wait.”

“What kind of hospital is this?”

“Just a hospital with too many patients and not enough money to employ enough doctors.”

“Great,” Hutch muttered and returned to Starsky, who was talking with the kind old lady about her grandchildren. She was just showing some pictures and they were both laughing.

“Hey Hutch, Mildred has a grandson who wants to become a clown.”

“You could teach him some fine clown tricks Starsk.”

“You think?”

“You’re a real Bozo, Starsk.”

Starsky turned to Mildred, “Would you take that as a compliment, Mildred?”

She tipped her head and looked at Hutch. “Is he serious about that?”

“Nah, he’s in bad mood because he broke my arm.”

“He broke your arm? I thought you said it was an accident?”

“It was, but it’s still his fault. He wouldn’t let me read his new book he’s writing and when I grabbed it, he floored me and that’s how I broke my arm.”

“You had no business taking his manuscript from him, David,” she scolded him gently, “Never take an artists work before he gives it to you.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Hutch said, “that’s what I said. I didn’t mean to hurt him, it was an accident.”

“I’m sure it was.”

The overworked nurse came in again. “Mrs. Towley, you can come with me now.”

“That’s me.” said Mildred and stood up. “You can take my chair, David.”

“Thanks Mildred and good luck.”

“You too, David.”

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I Starsk?” Hutch said when Starsky sat down.

“What do you mean?”

“As soon as I turn my back, you’re flirting with every lady that’s available.”

“You don’t have to turn your back for that Hutch. I’m more than willing to show you my technique.”

“In your dreams buddy.”

Starsky sighed, “It’s starting to hurt more. I wish it was our turn.”

“I’m going to find out how long it’s gonna take. This is ridiculous.”

“Leave it Hutch, they’re real busy.”

But Hutch was already on his way to the desk. In his haste to get there he didn’t see the crutch sticking out from a row of chairs and before he knew it he fell down. Hard. On his left knee.

“Argh, shit that hurts.”

Starsky was beside him in a second. “Are you all right Hutch? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“My knee,” Hutch moaned, “I hurt my damn knee.”

“Can you walk?”

“Give me a hand then I’ll try.”

“Which hand?”

“Oh shit Starsk, I can’t get up.”

Starsky looked around to see if there was a nurse and when he didn’t see one he yelled, ”get me a wheelchair here.”

The overtired nurse from earlier came running in and looked at Hutch, “You couldn’t just wait for your turn, could you?” she shook her head and turned to Starsky, “Did he have to do that tonight? It’s busy as it is already.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose, lady.” Starsky growled, his arm throbbing after his rush to Hutch.

“I guess not, but it’s so inconvenient.”

“It’s no picnic for us either.”

“I’ll get a wheelchair and see if I can find a doctor.”

“Get two wheelchairs,” Starsky said, “I’m not so steady on my feet at the moment.”

“Sit down Starsk, don’t want you to fall again.” Hutch mumbled, still trying to get on his feet.

“You sit down too Hutch, wait for our ride.”

They both sat down on the floor, Hutch holding his swelling knee and Starsky holding his hurting arm.

The nurse came back with two wheelchairs and another nurse.

“Found you a doctor who will see the both of you now.”

“Good.” Hutch growled, pain flaring through his knee.

With the experienced help from the nurses they managed to get in the wheelchairs and were taken to an empty cubicle.

“Wait here, doc is on his way.”

This time they didn’t have to wait long before an older man came in.

“Hi, I’m doctor Westman. I understand you both had an accident?”

“Yeah,” Starsky said, “I fell at home and he fell in the waiting room.”

“Right,” the doctor said, “Am I correct as I say that you” he pointed at Starsky, “hurt your arm and you,” at Hutch, “ hurt your leg?”

“The jackpot.” Hutch sneered at the older man.

“I see. Well, that means x-rays gentlemen. After that, we can discuss the damage.”

He left the cubicle and the two nurses came in. “You really keep us busy fellows,” the older one said, “I hope you won’t have to wait too long at the x-ray department.”

“I hope so too.” Hutch mumbled when they were pushed from the cubicle.

“How are we going to explain this to Dobey?” Starsky thought out loud, still clutching his arm.

“I’ll think of something.” Hutch promised, holding his knee.

The x-ray department turned out not to be busy and for once they didn’t have to wait but were transferred to two different rooms.

Hutch had a hard time climbing on the table and Starsky had a hard time when they positioned his arm so that they could take x-rays.

Both tired and sore they arrived almost at the same time back in the waiting room.

“This is sheer torture.” Starsky complained.

“Tell me about it.”  Hutch agreed.

Two different nurses came to get them back to the doctor who was waiting for them, x-rays in his hands.

“Well gentlemen, I have some good news for you.” He said cheerful.

“My arm is not broken?” Starsky asked hopeful.

“Nothing wrong with my knee?” Hutch wanted to know.

“Both wrong I’m afraid, but it’s a nice clean break and your knee is damaged but not too bad. I think that I can say that about six weeks will do the trick for both of you.”

“Six weeks?” Hutch looked at his knee, “you mean I can’t walk for six weeks?”

“Not exactly. The ligaments in your knee are damaged, not torn but severely strained. You need to keep the leg up, put some ice on it and rest. In about ten days you’ll start physical therapy and in five to six weeks you’ll be as good as new. And you,” he turned to Starsky, “will get a nice cast for six weeks.”

“T’riffic.” Starsky mumbled.

“Great.” Hutch muttered.

“Let’s get your arm in a cast and then you both need to rest.” The doctor smiled.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Starsky stood up and walked to Hutch. “You want me to drive you?”

“No, I don’t want you to drive me. You can’t drive me with one arm.”

“Of course I can.”

“I’ll send a nurse.” The doc chimed in, “I think that’s a better solution.”

“Fine, but hurry will you? I’ve been here long enough.”

A young nurse came to get them. “Come with me please, I’ll show you the way.”

“Is it far?” Starsky wanted to know.

“Nah, just around the corner. You think you can walk?” she asked.

“Guess so.”

“Holler when I go too fast.”

She turned out to be right, within three minutes she parked Hutch in yet another waiting room and took Starsky to a room where he would get his cast.

When he returned in the waiting room Hutch was trying to walk with crutches they had brought him.

“Hey, you’re walking.” Starsky said tired.

“I’m trying to but it ain’t easy.”

“You think you can make it to the phone over there?”

“Why, you want to make a phone call?”

“Call a cab.”

“I can drive.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes I can, I only need one leg to drive.”

Starsky thought about that but was too tired to argue. He shrugged, “You drive.”

They struggled their way through the corridors, holding each other in case one might stumble. They didn’t notice people watching them as they steadily headed to the exit.

Sighing a shared sigh in relief they climbed in the Torino, Hutch cursing when he bumped his knee and Starsky swearing when he bumped his head, but finally they were seated.

“You wanna go home?” asked Hutch, turning the key.

“No, you need help.”

“You need help too.”

“We should stay together till we’re back on our feet again.”

“You’re on your feet, I’m the one who has to get back on his feet.”

“Whatever.” Starsky growled, tired and in pain. “Didn’t we get painkillers?”

“Yes, we did. That nice young nurse gave me the prescriptions. We both have the same pills.”

“Great, now we can share our meds.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, drive us home, one legged one.”

“Got to make a stop to fill our prescriptions.”

“Okay, but hurry.”

Hutch drove away from the hospital and turned the right corner. He drove carefully, not feeling too good and the knowledge that he had only one leg he could use properly gave him an unpleasant feeling.

He parked in front of the drugstore and handed Starsky the prescriptions. “You got to get them buddy, can’t walk that far.”

Moaning and sighing Starsky took the prescriptions and left the car with difficulty.

Hutch watched him go and felt the guilt rise. It’s all your fault Hutchinson. You broke his arm and tripped like the klutz you are and look at him now .God, I hope he won’t fall and break his other arm too.

Fifteen minutes later Starsky came out and shuffled back to the car. He got in the car and after he sat down, he threw a bottle with pills in Hutch’s lap.

“That took a long time Starsk.”

“Yeah, but they gave me a chair so I could sit down. Nice lady.”

“You wanna stay at my place?”

“Yes, can’t leave your plants alone.”

“Thanks Starsk.”

They arrived at Venice Place at two in the morning. Hutch looked at the stairs and groaned.

“How the hell do I get upstairs?”

“One step at the time.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“You think so? I’m the one who has to get you upstairs and I have only one arm I can use.”

“I’ll use the crutches.”

“And fall down?”

“I won’t fall down.”

“Yes you will. We have to think of a way to climb the damn stairs without breaking our necks.”

“What if…” Hutch started but then he shook his head, “won’t work.”

“What?”

“I thought that maybe if we would hold each other we could give it a try.”

“Hold each other? What did you have in mind? Hold each other, sounds kinky to me.”

“Keep your dirty mind under control and listen.”

“Dirty mind? Who has a dirty mind here? I didn’t write about pert niffles.”

“Nipples Starsk, nipples. It was a typo.”

“Niffles, nipples, who cares; but I didn’t write it.”

“Shut up Starsk.”

“I think you should try a crime novel.”

“And I think I’ll stop writing.”

“Why? Don’t you wanna fulfil your dream anymore?”

“Sometimes it’s better to let a dream be a dream.”

It seemed to take hours to climb the stairs but finally they were upstairs, clutching each other in shared pain and fatigue.

“How the hell did we get here?” Starsky wanted to know.

“Don’t ask me, I have no idea.”

“You even managed to bring your crutches.”

“Should get a medal for that.”

“Open the damn door, I wanna go in and sit down.”

“Let go of me, can’t get my keys when you’re holding me like that.”

“Oh, sorry. Don’t want you to fall.”

“Won’t fall, don’t worry.”

Hutch fumbled with the keys and dropped them. “Aw shit!”

“I’ll get them, you stay where you are.”

A little clumsy because of the heavy cast Starsky bent to pick up the keys and bumped his cast-encased arm against Hutch’s bad knee.

“Argh! Watch what you’re doing down there.”

“Sorry, I can’t see a thing. It’s dark.”

“Geez Starsk, that really hurts.”

Starsky’s hand came up again with the keys in it. “Got them.”

“Open the door.”

“Quiet, you’ll wake up the entire building.”

The moment the door opened, they stumbled inside, more than happy to be home again.

“I could do with a beer.” Starsky said, on his way to the fridge.

“Me too, but we have to be careful with the painkillers.”

“I won’t need any pills as long as I have a beer to drown my pain.”

“I’m with you Starsk, don’t like pills anyway.”

They plopped down on the couch; beer bottles in hand and sighed in unison.

“Thank god, we’re home.”

“Yeah,” Starsky leaned his head against the headrest, “What a day.”

“Starsk, do you remember what exactly happened?”

“Don’t know…it started with pert niffles I think.”

“Not niffles, nipples. It was a typo.”

“So you told me. Anyway, you didn’t want me to read your masterpiece so you broke my arm.”

“It was an accident Starsk, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know, but why can’t I read what you’ve written so far?”

“Because it isn’t very good.”

“Who cares? The few lines I read were hot and I wanna know what else they are doing, besides nibbling pert niffles.”

“Nipples. Use your imagination.”

“You always say I have a dirty mind and now you want me to use it?”

“Ouch, I have to stretch my leg. This knee is killing me.”

“Hey, you have to keep your leg up. Come here and take the couch. I’ll take a chair.”

“Nah, stay where you are, I’ll put my leg behind you.”

“That won’t work. Use me as a pillow for your leg.”

“Okay, if that’s want you want.”

It took some shoving and swearing but they managed to get comfortable, Hutch’s legs on Starsky’s lap and his head resting against the back of the couch.

“Ah, this feels nice Starsk.”

“Yeah, but I need to go to the bathroom in a minute.”

“Shit Starsk, couldn’t you have gone before we sat down?”

“Can’t help it, the pressure of your feet is too much.”

“All right, but be careful. Bring the pain pills with you when you come back; I don’t think I can do without.”

Starsky shuffled towards the bathroom, moaning and groaning and when he returned he went to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of pills and the pile of papers beside the typewriter. He folded them and shoved them under his shirt. Let’s see what you’ve written Blintz; I’m dying to know what you were doing with the pert niff…oops nipples.

He put the pills in his pocket and headed for the fridge. “Hey Hutch, you want a root beer?”

“Yeah okay.”

Two bottles in one hand he carefully went back to the room where Hutch was lying comfortably on the couch.

“You’re comfy Hutch?”

“Hmm.”

“Good. You need your pills?”

“Yeah, give me one.”

“Can’t open the bottle, need a hand here partner.”

“Oh yes, sorry. Gimme the pills.”

“I can’t open the root beers either.”

“Gimme those too.”

“Forgot the opener.”

“Then get one.”

“You’re forgetting something Hutch, I’m injured myself.”

“You still can walk, can’t you?”

“Not thanks to you.” Starsky muttered and went to get the opener from the kitchen.

“Here you are.” He threw the item on Hutch’s stomach who grabbed it before it could slide on the floor.

“Thanks Starsk, you need a pill too?”

“No, not yet but keep them at hand for later.”

Hutch swallowed a painkiller and washed it down with his soda.

“Hope it’ll kick in soon. Knee hurts like hell.”

Starsky sank down in a chair. “Yeah, but it’s your own fault.”

Hutch sighed, “Not now Starsk, I wanna sleep.”

“You gonna stay on the couch?”

“I’m fine where I am now.”

“You mind if I take your bed?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna drink my soda and go to bed then.”

“Fine.”

Starsky waited until he was sure Hutch was asleep. He grinned, took the papers from under his shirt and started reading.

He chuckled softly when he reached the part of the pert niffles and started giggling when he read about Terence’s clumsy attempts to persuade Maria to more action but he started breathing heavily when he read on about the passionate lovemaking Hutch had written down.

“Geez Blintz, this is hot stuff. I’m glad you didn’t break my left arm.”

“What?” Hutch had woken up by the noises Starsky was making and he looked at his friend. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh nothing, just talking to myself. Go back to sleep.”

“No, you’re up to something. What are you doing?”

“Just reading.”

Hutch’s eyes flew open. “You’re reading my book.”

“Not your book, just the first chapter.”

“You’re reading my book! I told you it wasn’t ready yet.”

“Seems to me Terence is ready.” Starsky mumbled but Hutch had heard him.

“Give it back Starsky, I don’t want you to read it.”

“Why not, it’s really hot. I just wanted to go to bed.”

“Oh yeah? And what were you planning on doing there?”

“None of your nosy business.”

“Don’t tell me you were going to use my writing to…to…jerk off.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you that.”

“What’s wrong with you? First you steal my manuscript and then you’re getting excited by a perfectly normal, tender love scene like it’s a dirty movie or something.”

“You call this normal and tender? Terence is an animal and Maria is…well she is pretending to be a nice, innocent girl but turns out to be insatiable.”

Hutch blushed and shrugged. “It’s nothing like that.”

“It is! Did you read it yourself?”

“Not yet, I’ve been writing.”

“Read it and see what you created.”

“Never mind, I’m not gonna finish it anyway.”

“Did you write this from your own experience?”

“None of your business.”

“Was Vanessa an animal in the sack?”

“None of your business I said.”

“Come on Hutch, you can tell me.”

“I don’t wanna talk about Van.”

“Hm, I can understand that, but I’d like to know a few things Hutch.”

“Forget it, I’m not gonna tell you anything.”

“If you tell me, I’ll tell you something about Candy.”

“I don’t wanna know about Candy.”

“Of course you wanna know. Maybe you can use it for your book.”

“There’s not going to be a book.”

“Yes there is. You can be my ghost writer.”

“Do you really think I’m going to write down your pornographic thoughts?”

“Who said something about thoughts? It really happened.”

“Yeah? Well, if you want to write a book you’ll have to write it yourself. I’m done with writing.”

“Maybe I will. Might be a bestseller.”

Hutch was silent for a minute. He stared at the ceiling and sighed. “Hey Starsk, what are we gonna tell Dobey?”

“Don’t know. The truth?”

“Do you really want to tell Dobey I broke your arm?”

“Of course not! It was an accident.”

“You think he’ll believe we both had accidents at home and won’t be back at work for six weeks?”

“We could say I fell down the stairs and you fell in the hospital. That’s the truth anyway.”

“Yeah that’s true. You need any help?”

“Maybe you can help me get out of my shirt?”

“Come here.”

When Starsky’s shirt was finally removed they both sat down and grinned.

“We’re a sorry pair ain’t we?” Hutch said.

“Yep, but who cares. We just survived another day and aren’t damaged too much.”

“No, but I’m not looking forward to telling Dobey we can’t work for six weeks.”

“He’ll survive.” Starsky yawned.

“You’re tired.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna go to sleep. How about a game of Monopoly?”

“You wanna play Monopoly at four in the morning?”

“Why not? It’s not that we have to be somewhere tomorrow morning.”

“True. Okay, get the game and be ready to get your ass kicked.”

“It’s cold without my shirt.”

“Take my bathrobe. What’s mine is yours, remember?”

“And don’t you forget it partner.” Said Starsky and smiled.

The end.