The Fire Chief Almost Gets His Postal

On July the 16th when we rode down Roswell Road in Atlanta we went through Sandy Springs. Sandy Springs was part of Atlanta until the past year of so. Most of the people there decided through an election they could self govern themselves better. But that is another story.

This story deals with a postal carrier nicknamed “Fire Chief”.

On our drive the other day we passed a store front that used to be a lounge about a dozen years ago. I forgot the name of the place, but I bet Fire Chief hasn’t. More about the lounge in proper sequence.

Fire Chief is medium height and has a wiry built. He is red headed with a red beard. He has blue eyes that seemed to have a blaze in them and he is hyper. We nicknamed “Fire Chief” because he used to be a Marietta Fireman. I think his real name is Jim.

Fire Chief was always laughing and carrying on, mostly with new female employees. It appeared that he was trying to put the make on them. He reminded me of the typical small horny dog that was always looking for fresh leg to hump… and I told him that, he thought that was funny.

One time he took off for Madi Gras and went to Louisiana. He didn’t go to New Orleans, where I suspected he would, having the image of a party animal and all. He went to the back country of Louisiana to a little town in the north part of the state. There, he said, in this little one horse town they had one of the wildest Madi Gras he had ever been to. They drunk, paraded, played music, cooked, ate, flashed for beads, just like in New Orleans but only better… he said he was going back there the next year.

One day Fire Chief was on his route and he did like he always did, his route was to deliver at one business on a main thoroughfare, then leave that establishment and take a left onto three lanes of traffic, go one business down and turn left again, through the six lanes of traffic again. He found it more efficient and less of a chance to have a wreck if he drove through the automated car-wash lot and come in the back of the next business. One day he was taking his modified route and BLAM!!! The manager of the automated carwash shot at him, putting a bullet hole into his LLV Postal vehicle.

Fire Chief had to report that and in turn the Postal Service took out a warrant the manager of the automated carwash, and Fire Chief also got into some trouble for going an unauthorized way on his route.

He also asked to be taken off that route. He didn’t want to deal with the shooter anymore. I can’t say I blame him.

A year or more went by and one day Fire Chief was on somebody’s front porch ringing the doorbell… he had a certified letter he was to deliver to the resident of the house. Suddenly, he found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. The resident of the house told him to get off his porch, go back to his vehicle and get the hell off his property.

Fire Chief quickly obliged him.

Again he filed a report and again the Postal service got a warrant out for the man.

That is twice he came near meeting a bullet with his name on it.

Remember, Fire Chief was during all this time trying to put the make on any female employee and I suppose other females away from work.

One morning I heard on the news that in a lounge in Sandy Springs, the same one I pointed out earlier, a man walked up to a man and woman at a booth and shot the man dead, pointed the gun on himself and killed himself. The news said it was a love-triangle, the shooter was the husband.

That same morning a carrier, with a French name, did not show up for work. The supervisor was asking around if anybody knew why this certain supervisor had not showed up. Then the telephone rang and it was the carrier’s wife. She said the carrier would not be in, he killed himself in a lounge in Sandy Springs the night before. The supervisor said she didn’t sound upset at all.

Fire Chief flipped out. He looked panic-stricken. I learned later that morning that not only was the wife having an affair with the man who was killed by her husband, but she was also having an affair with Fire Chief. He told his closest friends about it.

It wasn’t a love-triangle, it was a love-square, or maybe even a love-pentagon.

All that morning his face was red and it looked like he was sick.

I think I saw him not long ago when Willow and I were running on Sandy Plains Road. He tooted his horn and waved. I wonder if he changed his habits?
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