It was morning in Los Angeles. We were working the day watch when my partner saw a man in a suit shouting at a brick wall in an alley. I parked the squad. Frank and I confronted the man in the suit.
"--and another thing! I kept the lights on in this alley! Got that?! I did! I deserve a round of applause--but no! You just stand there like a brick wall!"
Frank approached the man, "Sir, sir, step away from the wall--"
"This is worse than Vietnam! I'm in a bunker here, see? First, this wall just won't give me any respect! Now I've got you two shooting at me!"
I spoke up in an attempt to calm the man, "Sir, you look a little gray, a little overtaxed. Would you like to sit down? Would you like--"
Then he lunged at Frank, grabbing him by the shoulders, sweat pouring down his face, "I saved your friggin' department! They were shooting at me! I didn't have any friends!"
I called in for the boys from Sunnyvale, and after we had our gray, distressed man safely on his way to a nice long rest, Frank turned to me and said, "Does he despair because God does not exist and therefore he has no higher morality to which he may address his appeal?"
And I squinted at the bright ball the sun made rising over Daylight Donuts and replied, "No, Frank, he just skipped breakfast."
My partner grunted assent and the door bells jangled as the aroma of fresh-baked donuts displaced the raw fear of the alley.