Officer Claire 404 of the Angelus Police Department walked through the front doors of Precinct 16 carrying her trademark satchel-o-muffins, ready for another day in the Basement. So far it was looking to be a great day. The sun was shining for once and lots of people were taking the opportunity to get out and get some exercise. She passed plenty of runners, not too many joggers though. First things first, before heading down to her office she had to see her bestest friend in the whole wide world.
"Hey Jenny! Got time to have a muffin with me?"
Officer Jennifer Woo sat at a console in the dispatch room, frantically trying to make sense of things when Claire walked in. "Sorry kiddo. I'm a little busy right now. We've got traffic collisions, a suicide that just got called in, auto theft, mass panic in the streets, and someone said something about an alien crash landing at a diner. This morning's a mess."
"Aww, c'mon! What harm could a muffin do?"
* * * * *
An overcharged, antique hotrod sped down the road well above the posted limit, the 'Big Joe' vanity plates catching the morning sun. A bright orange muscle car, modeled like one of those antiquated things from the 1970's, had been left running in the parking lot of a liquor store. An enterprising young hoodlum had decided not to waste the fuel and charged himself with making full use of the engine's abilities. The speedometer could go well past one-hundred mph. It'd be a shame not exercise that kind of potential.
As the car approached it's top speed, the rear wheels began to lose friction on the perpetually damp road. Fishtailing wildly, it swerved into oncoming traffic, narrowly missing a large cargo hauler. The hauler, in turn, jumped the curb in it's bid to avoid catastrophe and slammed into the statue of the mascot of a nearby 'PorkChop Express'—the number one pork-themed restaurant in the city. The pig-shaped idol rocketed through the air, crashing through neon signs left and right and sending sparks everywhere, before landing inches from the window of a competing diner across the way. On the other side of the glass, one waitress fainted while two customers simultaneously regretted their use of the expression 'When pigs fly'.
* * * * *
"No problem, dear. I'm sure I can have it ready in no time. You did call the office, didn't you? Then you've got plenty of time, no need to rush things. Alright, I'll see you soon. Love you. Bye." Vera hung up the phone with her heart trying to claw it's way out of her throat. Her husband would be home very soon, and her beau was lying half naked on the bed. "Crap! We've got to get you out of here, now!"
Big Joe, as his friends called him, gave a grunt as he begrudgingly pulled his pants back on. "Fine, I'm leavin'. Maybe I can get me a beer, then."
Vera looked at him incredulously. "It's 9 in the morning."
The large redneck gave a shrug. "Gotta be 5 o'clock somewhere."
* * * * *
Some days were intolerable. Rob Morton trudged down the sidewalk in Rho Sector, briefcase in hand, lamenting his luck. If it wasn't bad enough that he was late and that his car had broken down, now he was soaking wet to boot. It was a mess, to be sure. Some mangy mongrels had raced out of a dark alleyway, apparently fighting over a scrap of food, and managed to run right into traffic. A car swerved to avoid them and ran right through a massive puddle, splashing muddy water all over Rob and his best suit. Now to add to his lateness, he had to slog his way home for a fresh change of clothes. In order to same himself some time he figured it best to call ahead and have his other good suit laid out and ironed by his wife.
* * * * *
Another beautiful morning in Rho Sector. Angelus' signature rain clouds took a holiday for the day, but Claire's baking would still go on. Wednesday meant lemon poppy seed was the flavor of the day, and after the last batch of muffins was done, it was time to head off to the precinct. Waiting for her, as usual, was one of the local strays. Sitting at attention right outside her door was a massive pit-bull who had a taste for lemon poppy muffins.
"Who's a good puppy?" she cooed at the behemoth. "Gonna sit up for me?" The gargantuan hound leaned back and lifted it's front paws off the ground. "Good boy! Have a muffin!" Claire learned long ago that the way to any dog's heart was through it's stomach. She tossed a muffin to the titanic dog, and went off on her way to work.
Seeing the muffin fly through the air from afar, another stray hit full tilt and ran for it. The pit-bull would soon have to do battle for it's breakfast. What a way to start the day.