<div class="floatleft">(http://i1007.photobucket.com/albums/af196/daisygirl1200/ddf435a3-2926-47ca-a945-2846ded513d5.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;"> Jack lifted the coffee cup to his mouth and took a swig of the brew as the Probie ordered. It tasted awful and he grimaced, tempted to spit the bitter liquid back in his cup. But that would look pretty dumb. And Jack needed to make an impressive impression here. Nothing undermined authority faster than looking stupid. People were still talking about the time the Sheriff had come out of the bathroom and stomped around the station with TP trailing off his shoe. And that happened last year!<br/><br/>Instead he made himself swallow the coffee and quickly reached for the sugar shaker to sweeten it up. <br/><br/>“Hmm?“ He hummed glancing up while shaking a few crystals out of the shaker. “Me? Well I just always knew I wanted to be in a position of authority. Ah,” Jack cleared his throat, his eyes dropping to the troublesome shaker, continuing on quickly. “you know, so I can make a difference.” <br/><br/>A little frown curled his brow as he fiddled with the shaker. It seemed to be plugged up or something. He tipped it and knocked it against the table top a couple times, then tipped it back over to pour out more sugar. “I was elected hall monitor in high school ‘cause I’m pretty observant,” he continued without looking up as he struggled with the sugar dispenser. Barely enough sugar had eked out to make it worth his while yet. <br/><br/>He brought the metal top to eye level, squinting his eyes as he examined it. It looked plugged. He picked up a fork and started prying at the little holes. “And then I got hooked up with the ROTC. And they required discipline you know? We did all sorts of drills and learned protocols and all that stuff.” His words trailed off as he tipped the bottle towards himself and checked the progress he’d made with the fork. Not satisfied, he pried a little more at a couple of the small openings. <br/><br/>Jack glanced up at the Probie, just too sort of check in since she wasn’t saying much. But she sat watching him, a sort of inscrutable look on her face as her eyes flickered back and forth from the shaker to Jack. With a mental shrug Jack shifted his focus back to the shaker. He tipped it over the top of his cup. About 4 little grains tumbled down into the dark brown brew. His brews drew together, a disgruntled frown forming. What the hell was wrong with this thing?<br/><br/>“So the next logical step was the military after high school. Did a stint with the Army at White Sands.” He jabbed at the top of the shaker. A little too forcefully as the fork deflected off the metal and stabbed into the meat of his forefinger near the knuckle. Jack grunted. “Sonofa..,” he hissed as the abused digit started to throb, leaking blood. <br/><br/>Jack tossed the fork on the counter with a glare, slapping pressure over the wound. “Served out my four years but it wasn’t want I wanted to do with the rest of my life,” he fairly growled. Enough was enough. With sharp movements he unscrewed the metal top and tipped it slowly and carefully over the rim of his cup. A giant chunk containing approximately three fourths of the shaker broke off and dropped into his cup with a <em>Pluunk</em>. Hot coffee splashed upward adding a burning sensation to the already bleeding hand. A muscle worked along Jack’s jaw and he did one long, slow blink. <br/><br/>The shaker was returned to the table and Jack picked up a spoon to mix the catastrophic amount of sugar into the coffee very calmly. “The Sheriff approached me when I got back into town." Jack glanced at the Probie again least he glare at the coffee cup. "Said he was looking for a few loyal men to serve with distinction and honor.” Jack gave an eloquent shrug that he thought managed to hint at his modesty and perfectly suited skill set quite nicely thank you. <br/><br/>And through all this, he completely missed the fact that the wall at the back of the diner was slowly melting…</span><br/>