Conversations between the guys. Mostly older. Attempt at humour.
Conversations July to October 2026
4th July 2026 (Older guys)
Written after seeing an advert for a red and white striped diner chair on eBay.
Hutch walked into his friend’s den and did a double take. His former partner was busy typing and didn’t notice.
“Er Starsky?”
“Yeah?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Just why?” Hutch said, as Starsky looked up at him, saw where he was pointing and grinned.
“Beeootiful ain’t it?! Was down at the local thrift store and saw it. I couldn’t resist.”
Hutch rolled his eyes. “At least I know you can’t take me for a spin in it!”
Starsky snorted. “They got another one down there. Thought I might get it for ya for your birthday.”
“Don’t you dare!”
5th July 2026 (Older guys)
Written after seeing an advert for a FB group called ‘Minnesota Hosta Society’. I love hostas!
Hutch looked up guiltily from his computer as Starsky came into the den.
“What are you doing?” Starsky asked.
“Nothing.”
“Hmm. Show me your FB page,” Starsky said with a raised eyebrow.
Reluctantly, Hutch reopened the page.
“Hutch? When is this obsession with hostas gonna stop?”
Hutch shook his head helplessly.
“You don’t even live in Minnesota anymore!”
“I know!”
“How many groups do you belong to now?”
“Ten.”
“And how many hostas do you have?” Starsky wanted to know.
“Only thirty-eight. Some people have hundreds,” Hutch said, trying to justify his passion.
Starsky rolled his eyes. “No more Plant Nursery visits for you unless I’m with you to keep hold of your wallet!”
8th July 2026 (Older guys with grandkids)
It was a Wednesday. It was a Wednesday in July. Did that matter? Not really. Wednesdays had that same feeling about them. That ‘middle of the week, where are we headed’ feeling. Of course, Wednesdays used to mean they were half way to the weekend when weekends were something to cherish at the end of a long, hard week. These days, weekends meant less but somehow individual days meant more. Hutch finished thinking this thought and turned to share it with his partner, only to find Starsky smiling at him over his coffee mug.
“Wednesdays, huh?”
“It’s infuriating when you do that! You know that, don’t you?”
Starsky shrugged.
Just then their two grandkids came back from getting a bowl of ice-cream and slipped into the opposite side of the booth.
“Gramps? You want to try my bubble-gum ice-cream?”
“Sure,” Starsky said. He dipped his spoon into the neon blue substance and tasted it. “Not bad.”
“You going to order some, Gramps?”
“Still deciding. Too many good choices.”
“Grandpa?”
Ollie proffered his bowl. Hutch looked at it dubiously.
Starsky nudged his shoulder into Hutch’s. “Live a little. It’s Wednesday.”
“This goes against my better judgement,” Hutch said, but dutifully dipped his spoon in and then sampled the ice cream. He scrunched up his face in disgust, making both boys chuckle.
“Did you know the man who invented Coco Cola was born today?” Starsky asked. “John Pemberton. I was reading about him this morning.”
“There’s Coco Cola ice cream over there,” Max said, waving his spoon in the direction of the counter.
Starsky looked interested. Hutch rolled his eyes but stood up, asking, “I assume you want to try some?”
“Of course!”
Shaking his head, Hutch nevertheless went over to the counter and ordered a scoop of Coco Cola ice-cream for Starsky and a scoop of plain old, can’t beat the original, vanilla ice-cream for himself.
“Thanks, partner.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Maybe we should make Wednesdays our meet for ice-cream day?” Starsky suggested hopefully.
“This is on top of your meet for coffee, meet for lunch, meet for donuts days?” Hutch queried.
“Are you complaining about us meeting regularly?” Starsky asked.
Hutch shook his head. “Of course not. It’s just your suggestions nearly always involve food.”
“And?”
Hutch just snorted.
Max finished his ice-cream and said, “I wouldn’t mind Wednesdays being our ice-cream meet-up day!”
“Like grandfather, like grandson,” Hutch said then added, “We could go this again next Wednesday if your moms say it’s okay.”
Three cheers greeted this suggestion. Hutch just smiled. If Wednesdays became ice-cream day for a while, he wouldn’t mind.
14th October 2026
They’d both been daydreaming. A long stakeout had exhausted their supplies of magazines, books and conversation. Silence had descended as they stared out of the windows, no longer seeing what was outside. A knock at the door made them jump.
Starsky leapt up to answer it and found it was the two detectives, who had come to take over. He glanced at his watch with surprise.
“Quiet shift?” one asked.
“Like a tomb,” Starsky replied.
He and Hutch gathered their few belongings and headed out.
As they walked down the stairs at the back of the small apartment block, Hutch said, “I think I was daydreaming the last hour. Got an idea for a story I might write one day.”
“Me too! That’s strange.”
Hutch raised an eyebrow. “Mine was about a man crossing a desert.”
Starsky looked startled. “Mine too! Maybe we’ve been spending too much time together. Our thoughts are merging!”
Hutch rolled his eyes. “I bet they aren’t. My character finds ‘himself’ in the desert. What does yours find?”
“Aliens! What else?”
They both looked surprised and then started chuckling.
As they reached the Torino, Starsky asked, “You feel like getting dinner on the way to your place?”
Hutch nodded. “You read my mind.”
Have any thoughts?
Share your reaction or leave a quick response — we’d love to hear what you think!
-
1
-
0
-
0
-
0
-
0
