We last left our intrepid heroes staring down the face of death; the beast robbing our bank and taking all those sacks. Yes, as Dickson and Dicko slowly turned in horror, they saw none other than… a Ram. With its blue wool and white horns, it was truly the face of evil. Who could conceive an animal so awful? (Well, except maybe Navy and their goat mascot. Seriously? A goat? Terrible, we should all aspire to BEAT NAVY whenever possible to remind them of their terrible mascot. But I digress, this is about a Ram, the Rams, and a bank robbery.)
“What the hekker is that?” Dicko asked, not sure what all the commotion was about.
The bank’s signal caller and manager was more than surprised by the events at hand. “We were able to stay locked in and make a great stop there, but they were able to make a play,” he mustered feebly, even as his institution was being ransacked. “Feels like we coulda done it. We’re very very young, but we’re very talented. I think it’s building character; it’s building belief. I think you’ve got to have great faith. Have to get back to work, no time to sleep.” The manager stood up, picked up the phone and began typing on his computer.
“Dicky, I’m up a gum tree mate,” said Dicko as he scratched his head, looking at the bank manager who was now printing out pages and pages of the day’s events and talking to his regional coordinator on the phone.
“Stop calling me Dicky dammit. Let’s get this clown.” But by the time our two heroes looked up, the nefarious ram stripped away one final sack, knocking over the bank manager and galloping away. Dicko and Dickson chased after him like their lives depended on it, reminiscent of a young, inexperienced punter taking an ill-advised fake punt attempt from his own end zone while we’re all screaming at our TV’s hoping to GOD that he manages to get to the line to gain. But even after running and running and more running, for what felt like 273 yards, our heroes came up short. Would their chief forgive them for running so much and so hard and still not finishing the job?
Dicko and Dickson walked back to the station. Since they had already run so much that day, they thought they’d pass on any more of it. It was a cool November afternoon. It had been a dry fall so far, only raining every third day, but the streets and coffee shops were full of the lamentations of 3.7 million tech immigrants from California complaining about the damp, blustery winter. Who knew that outside of the warm silicon cocoon, the world could be a grey and harsh land where people get pissed off when you don’t use your turn signal Brad.
As they approached the station, the two worried that Chief Pete would have strong words for them. Surely another lecture was coming. After all, a lack of accountability had been the torn Achilles of their department for over a year now.
“Believe it or not, I really loved this case you guys worked on today. It’s hard, it’s tough. You’re ahead, you’re behind.”
“But the Rams are still out there, we never caught them,” Dicko piped up.
“Well, we gave up a big sack right there at the end. We’re going to keep running, going to keep setting the tempo the way we want to. Have to be physical, get in those body blows. You boys are doing great, can’t wait to see what you do next. Go Cops.” The Chief turned and left again.
“Well rook, looks like we’re still on the case to catch the Rams. But they’ve got a large lead on us.”
“Reckon we can boil over the NFC West?”
“Man, I never know what the fuck you’re saying.”
The detectives trudged back to their desks to look over the details of the case. With only a few days before the local cheese-lover convention coming to town, they didn’t have time to mull over their recent setback. Will Dicko and Dickson manage to contain the hecklers of the Lambeau cheddar-enthusiasts? Can they ever catch the Rams? Will any amount of running ever be enough? Find out next time on Dickson n Dicko.