Two police officers were on a traffic patrol in a small southern town on a very hot and hazy day. It was about 98 degrees in the shade and the humidity was so bad even the fish were sweating.
The two members of the local constabulary were in the police cruiser that was backed into a secluded alley; looking for traffic violators. The car was a 1986 Crown Victoria that had seen better days. Due to the fiscal restraints some maintenance items had to be deferred.
One of the deferred maintenance items was the vehicle’s air conditioning system. Unfortunately, the old A/C would decide to stop operating when the mercury got past 90 degrees.
The southern sleuth-hounds were the worse for wear that day as they were kicked out of the station by the Chief and told to catch some speeders if they wanted the money to get the vehicle’s air conditioning fixed.
Because it was after lunch and it was so hot the two crime-stoppers could barely hold their eyes open. It was nap time for most of this little hamlet in cotton country.
Our ersatz heroes were no exception. They did their best to remain alert, but they kept opening and closing their eyes while the bobbing of their heads kept time with an old Hank Williams rendition of “Lonesome Whistle” resonating from a local AM radio station.
It was about 1430 hours according to the police log when two old ladies were standing on the street corner about a block away from the boys in blue. Both seasoned citizens were suffering from the heat and humidity as bad as the officers; who they did not see backed into the alley.
Martha, the eldest and most adventuresome, looked over at her sister Myrna and exclaimed; “It sure is hot today.”
“I know, sister, my dress and underwear are sticking to me like Elmer’s glue.”
Patting her neck with her handkerchief, Martha blurted out, “Myrna, you just gave me an idea!”
“What is it, Martha?”
“Myrna, how long have we lived in this town and yet we have never done anything daring?”
“My goodness sister, the last time I did anything daring was when I kissed your boyfriend on the…”
“Stop it, Myrna!”
“Dear sister, I don’t know why you’re still angry about that. It was over 60 years ago. Besides, he eloped with Daisy May Wingate.”
“Oh, shut up. Why don’t we do something daring right now? It’s too hot to do anything else and the temperature has given me a brilliant idea!”
“What is it Martha?”
With an evil grin on her Southern Baptist face, Martha looked at her sister and, in a whisper, suggested they go streaking!
Myrna wasn’t taken aback one bit. The prospect sounded as exciting as kissing her sister’s old boyfriend on the…
Well, I digress too much. On with the rest of the story…
Giddily and with the uninhibited exuberance of a two-year-old running around the house in her birthday suit after a bath, the two Brewster sisters took every article of blue gingham clothing and frilly laced unmentionables off then stuffed them in their over-sized handbags that they carried their “cough medicine” in.
The only thing they were wearing were high-heeled shoes and wide-brimmed sun bonnets. Their spirits were willing, but their flesh was weak. When the sign said “WALK” they took off across the intersection as fast as their eighty-plus legs would carry them. They decided to pick up the pace when they saw a snail gaining on them.
With the speed of peanut butter sliding down a window pane, Martha and Myrna passed the black & white Crown Victoria backed up in the alley with both officers’ eyelids as heavy as a copper still. In case you haven't figured it out by now the overheated constables were as alert as a baby on Benadryl.
About five minutes went by after the senior streakers passed the officers. The radio station moved on from Hank Williams to Patsy Cline singing “Crazy.” And by the time Patti Page started to sing “Tennessee Waltz,” the sisters had turned the corner and were out of sight.
Rubbing the sleep and sweat out of his eyes, one of the officers exclaimed; “Hey Fred, did you see who went by?”
With a yawn as long as the Texas coastline, Fred replied, “Yep, it was the Brewster sisters, I think. Didn’t you get a good look at them, Bill?”
Rubbing his eyes again, Bill asked, “Good enough but what the heck were they wearing?”
“I don’t know but it sure needs ironing.”
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