Kissing the thoughts of a tranquil evening goodbye, I checked my pepperspray, stepped out of the cruiser, and eased up on the couple.
"Desmond," I greeted the gentleman, "Opal. What's on y'alls minds?"
"Go 'way, Mister Dawg,"said Opal, without turning around, "This don't concern the law none."
"Oh, Sweet Jesus," yelped Desmond, "Mister Dawg, you got to do something!"
"Opal," I start to say as I ease around to where I can see her hands, "We need to talk...Holy Mary." The anguish in Desmonds voice was quite understandable once I got far enough around the two to notice that Opal had Desmonds schnitzel in both ham-sized fists, and was apparently trying to rip the old boy out by the roots.
I'm here to tell you folks, walking up on that sort of thing without advance warning can make a feller get kind of wobble-legged around the knees.
"Opal," I yipped, "You turn loose of that! Now!"