POLICE ACADEMY I

After three minutes of admiring everything around him, especially the boldly written name "Guttenberg Police Academy," which he kept repeating to himself over and over just because it was a dream come true, a young man about his age wearing a white round-necked short-sleeved T-shirt, whose impenetrable countenance gave little chance to tell whether he was being friendly or mean, came up to Damian and picked up one of his bags, then without explanation he turned around and started walking away. "Uhm, excuse me," Damian called out to him as he reached to touch the young man's shoulder with a funny smile on his face. "I think that belongs to me." "Yes, it does," the young man replied with a frown on his face, "but I wouldn't have to be here if you weren't spinning around like a headless chicken." "Yo, what's your problem, mate?" Damian uttered with closed teeth, indicating how angry he was: "First you come out of nowhere and pick up my bag, and now you think you can insult me?" "Who the hell do you think you are?" The young man corked to the left, then a weird grin formed around his lips as he took a step forward and looked deeply into Damian's eyes. "Listen to me, pipsqueak," he insulted, "I was asked to come help you carry your stuff, oh wait, I mean to fetch you and show you which way leads to the dormitory, but let's get one thing straight here, if you mistake me for a babysitter, you will choke on your own blood. Got it? "Now follow me." He turned around and started to walk ahead of Damian. As much as he wanted to plant his fist on the mouth of this annoying creature who thinks himself tough and bossy, Damian gave it a second thought, then said, "It's not worth it," as he tapped the young man's shoulder again. "I don't have to waste my time on an empty barrel like yourself on my first day; do you think you scare me?" Your dressing sells you out; you are new here, a freshman just like me, so don't think for even a second that I will tolerate you talking to me anyhow, understood? "Take the lead; I'm following you." As the two went on arguing to prove which of them was tougher, they failed to recognize their commanding officer, a dark-skinned gypsy with well-developed abs and muscles that could easily be noticed due to the black compression skinny gym fitness t-shirts he was wearing. "What are you ladies chattering about?" he asked in a deep voice. "I'm sorry, sir," Damian apologized jokingly, "but I have masculine features too, I mean, I'm a man too." "What are you trying to imply?" that I am blind?" The instructor replied, and the young man who stood next to Damian squeezed his hand with an intention to send a "shut up" message to his brain. He was certain that if Damian had a clue to whom he was speaking, he would calculate his words. Being open-minded, Damian read the signal correctly and nodded a "no" to his superior. "That's what I thought, another coward," the instructor judged. Turning towards Damian's companion, he said, "I asked you to go fetch him and gave you one minute." Do you know how many minutes you spent Three! For your punishment, both of you must jog till..." He paused, stared at his wristwatch, which read forty minutes past six, then he continued, "Until the clock says it's nine hundred, starting five minutes from now, get lost!" The command to "get lost" was uttered with all gripped teeth and a squeezed face, demanding their quick departure. The young man next to Damian dropped the bag he was holding, stood in an attentive position, and then saluted reverently, shouting "Sir, yes, Sir." Utterly confused as to what he should do, Damian imitated the young man by making his face look as serious as it could be. "I'm beginning to like you, son," the instructor said to him. "I admire your courage, but learn this: know when to shut up, do as you're told, and remember, the most important rule here is to obey before complaining. But if you can't, your bags are here, the bus station is just a km away, go home and live a peaceful life, or else, do what you're told, understood?" "Sir, yes, sir." Damian responded without a blink or even a smile to show friendliness, but with a hardened countenance, and the instructor excused the two gentlemen. "So lemme guess," Damian started again, after they had gained a considerable distance from the instructor, "he is the instructor, right?" The young man said no words but nodded his "yes." His reaction should have been enough to tell Damian that he was not interested in talking after what just happened, but Damian knew not when to stop asking, "Is he always this tough?" He went on to ask, "Look, if you don't know how to shut up, I'm going to teach you by disassembling in your teeth. You just got here, and look what you have done. Your first thing to do is to get me in trouble. How dare you?" Yo, chillax, bro, what's with this attitude? "I didn't do it on purpose; I didn't know he was the instructor." "Yeah right! You didn't, but your big mouth couldn't wait to express itself, could it? If you had learned to shut up, you would not have gotten us into trouble. What do you even think we do here? Joke? Gallivant?" The young man replied, really irritated this time. "Okay, dude, you don't get to talk to me anyhow, okay?" I told you I was sorry; I didn't know he was the instructor; why do you have to be so tough? "Oh let me guess, you are imitating the instructor, aren't you?" Damian teased, "He's the only tough guy around here, ain't he?" "Shut up!" The fuming young man replied, "You don't know me." "I don't have to know you." Damian countered quickly, as if he were enjoying the torture he was putting this guy through, "You're a copycat." You know what? I feel you were created to upset me, but that ain't going to happen, but... you listen to me, punk; after this, and I mean my words, if you ever cross my path again, I won't be held accountable for whatever happens to your teeth and your face, got it? Now shut up and keep following." With that, the pissed off young man ignored Damian's presence, and the rest of the journey was walked with no more arguments, even though Damian wasn't quiet and kept mocking how overly tough this "mate" thought himself to be. The dormitory was a really huge building painted brown; the bunk beds, made of cheap stripped pine with their rough canvas mattresses, were jammed end-to-end on both sides of the long, drafty room. Without the beds, it would seem quite cavernous; perhaps, with its stone floor and polished ceiling, it might even seem quite grand, but like this, it was reminiscent of the economy section of some clapped-out train carriage. At the end of the central aisle, the lights shone dimly through the grimy window onto the gray bedding and the gray dusty floor. As if he were programmed to talk anytime he saw something "Wow, this place is huge." Damian remarked after seconds of surveying the place he was going to spend the next six months, "How do you even recognize your own bed?" "Quick, the five minutes are almost up. Let's run to the field before he notices we're not there, or else trust me, we're good as dead." saying that to buy himself some quiet, the young man involuntarily placed Damian's bag on the bunk bed next to the one he slept on. Damian did as he saw, and the two raced out to the field together to commence the jog. As the sun registered itself up in the southeastern part of the sky, and he noticed his colleagues assembling themselves before the instructor, Damian's companion dizzily came to a stop. Because he was exhausted, the young man tripped, hitting his head hard on the floor. Damian grew very scared; it wasn't the first time he had seen that happen to someone during a run like this. He remembered a colleague named Daniel from back in school who, on one occasion, fell and fainted; all the students thought he was dead because he turned motionless even after sprinkling so much water on him, an idea someone in the crowd came up with. They were later informed by the infirmary that the boy didn't have much water in his system. Anyways, Damian, though tired and overly panting, hastily attended to his aide and picked him up. "Help!" he screamed to his fellow comrades, "he's dying." Not even a giggle or a look of concern escaped a single soul's face; anybody aside from the instructor was allowed to fidget; the latter would punish anyone who fidgets. "I remember saying 9:00; it's fifty seconds past the time, son; if you can't follow orders around here, remember what I told you earlier; go get your things and get outta here," the instructor barked at Damian. Damian stood still and saluted, even in his shivering state. "I'm sorry, sir," he apologized. "Get your ass over here," the instructor replied, and shifted his attention back to the recruits. Damian picked up the young man, wrapped his arm around his neck, and gently but carefully walked towards the instructor and joined the recruits.

As he laid him down at the instructor's feet, Damian lifted up his eyes and asked, "How can we help him, sir?" The instructor looked at him, surprised, and asked, "Do you even care about the reason why you came here?" He asked him, "Yes, sir," to which Damian responded, "but as a future officer going to serve my town and country, I believe I am to be concerned about my fellow officer, sir." For the first time ever, Damian noticed a smile forming around the corners of the instructor's lips. "Did you hear him?" The instructor asked his audience, "He just got here, and he is pronouncing himself "future officer." I would say he didn't deserve it the first time I saw a young man, but this—" The instructor pointed to Damian's companion lying on the floor, saying, "This is what it takes to be called a policeman; you should learn to sacrifice yourself for the citizens of this country no matter what." "The stripes don't mean anything if you can't sacrifice. Welcome to the Academy, son." He saluted Damian, and Damian did the same to show his appreciation. "We're done here for the morning," the instructor informed the assembled trainees. Looking back at Damian, he said, "He's not going to heal himself down there. Take him inside and give him some water and breakfast to feed his lazy bones." "You're all dismissed."