Consequently, when on one particular day 9 AM passed without Johnson's arrival in the briefing room, it caused a major sensation. All announcements and patrol assignments ceased and the sergeant himself, looking at his watch and muttering, stormed out into the corridor.
Finally, precisely at ten, Johnson showed up, his uniform dusty and torn, his nametag missing, his face scratched and bruised, his shield bent.
He limped painfully to the time clock, punched in, and said, aware that all eyes were upon him, "I tripped and rolled down two flights of stairs. Nearly freakin' killed myself."
And the sergeant said, "And to roll down two flights of stairs took you a whole hour?"
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