Thin Blue(shift) Line

The station was quiet, a heavy smothering silence that stifled every attempt to break it.  Parsons was cleaning his weapon.  Jutes was doing the crossword.  Tersico bounced a rubber ball rhythmically against the wall.

The phone rang.

Everyone watched, wide-eyed, as Sergeant Cluise answered.  "Yes, ma'am.  Exceeding the speed of light?  In Newtonian space?  Confirmed?  Oh.  Oh, I see.  You want your local police, ma'am.  We don't handle fraud.  That's right.  Only if the laws are actually violated."  He paused.  "Not very often, ma'am."

Cluise sighed and set the phone down.  The others slumped, and the silence returned.

The Dead Man

The dead man walked through the marketplace with bowed head.  All averted their eyes.  He could have stolen, had he wished.  Who would stop a dead man?  Indeed, the goods he traded would not be touched until they rotted or were stolen by those more desperate than wise.

He paused at the landing-place.  Men, women, and children launched into flight beside him at every moment; his own wings hung in tatters on his back.

To fly is to live.  To lose one's wings is death.  This is the law.

The dead man shuffled back to his cave in the cliffside.

They've Heard All the Nut Jokes Already

The clerk of the court removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't think we can issue a marriage license."

"Because we're gay?" Girt demanded, his normally squeaky voice becoming nearly inaudible in his outrage.

"No."

"It's because we're different races, isn't it?" Tutt narrowed his eyes up at the clerk.

She shook her head. "No. It's actually nice that you've overcome your differences as invasive and native species."

"Then what!?"

"Well, you're squirrels. Human laws don't apply. You can do whatever you want, really." The clerk shrugged.

Girt slugged Tutt on the shoulder. "Told you."