Right of Way

Total silliness: Starsky and Hutch rather giddy while driving to bust a drug dealer.

Written for the 20 minute challenge.

Starsky donned his favorite sunglasses, revved the Torino’s engine, and maneuvered out of the parking place directly in front of Metro. “You have Wong’s address?” he asked, guesstimating whether he could make it to the intersection before the light turned red.

“Right.” Hutch patted down the pockets of his jacket before locating a slip of paper in his left jeans pocket. “957 Wight Road.”

“Right?” Starsky turned in that direction as the streetlight changed color.

“Wight,” Hutch repeated. “Go left.” He stabbed his finger at the next street.

“The address is Wight Road.” Starsky frowned at his passenger, continuing on the main street. “Isn’t that to the right?”

“You’re thinking about Wight Way. This is the wrong way to Wight Road.” Hutch made a U shape with his forefinger. “You need to turn around. He’s probably left by now and we’ll have to spend the afternoon looking for him.”

“Go left to Wight,” Starsky muttered, thoroughly annoyed. “His kid, Billy Wong, runs the main operation, doesn’t he? Wong Senior pretends he’s gone legit.”

“True. Just turn around and I’ll give you the directions.”

“Do you have a map?”

“Starsky, I used to live right off Wight Road when I was married. Before Van left, near that Rite Aid.”

“That’s right,” Starsky nodded, turning onto Lepton Lane, two streets over from Wight. “I remember picking you up when we were in the academy. You lived near a drug dealer?”

“I didn’t know he was a drug dealer!” Hutch groaned. “The rent was good in that area. I’d walk down Wight and the local deli was just…” He waved a hand at a small mom and pop type storefront. “There, see? Great sandwiches.”

“I’d like to eat one right now, but we have to take in a damned drug dealer on the wrong side of the law,” Starsky grumped. His stomach was growling at the thought of great sandwiches.

“Well, he and his son live on Wight, so you know what they say.” Hutch grinned wolfishly, obviously relishing something he thought was hysterical.

Starsky could almost hear the rimshot for Hutch’s undoubtedly bad joke, but tradition demanded that he reply. Besides, he really liked the way Hutch’s eyes lit up with anticipation. Had they been alone, in the house, he’d have kissed Hutch. “No, what do they say?”

“Two Wongs don’t make a Wight,” Hutch snorted, pumping his fist.

Starsky rolled his eyes to the right, amused at Hutch’s self-congratulatory hilarity. “Don’t quit your day job.”