Patience was a virtue; Sergeant Joseph Getraer knew as much. Virtues, however, were a pain in the neck when you had to deal with a team of kids in full-grown bodies.

After spending the morning sorting through Grossman's epic report on how the spinning wheel of a toppled over bus had left deep imprints on his soul he just wasn't ready for another one of Poncherello's escapades. His officer was out in the hallway and Joe glared at him from the empty briefing room, because, oh, of course they were late again. And of course Poncherello's uniform was a mess and the way he clutched his helmet nervously and gesturing frantically at Baker meant that the mechanics were going to demand a raise again.

( ... )

BACK! :D

*gives out random hugs*

It's this time of the year again, I'm off for the family holiday! I should be back on the 1st August. I will miss you but OMG BEACH!

See you soon! :D

"I can't get any closer. You wanna give it a shot, Ponch?"

"No way. I'll never make it!" Ponch peeked over the dashboard, scanning the empty areaway of central. "It's not funny!" he snarled at his partner's snort.

Jon stopped the engine of the patrol car and stared out of the window, unable to hide the grin on his face."Yes, it is."

"Yeah, thanks a lot." Ponch scowled at him. "Now would you please get in there and save my skin?!"

Jon opened the car door and sighed indulgently. "Sure thing, relax. You just keep out of sight, alright?"

"Thanks for the advice, ol' buddy, that's real helpful!"

( ... )

Muse: Frank Poncherello
Fandom: CHiPs
Words: 530

What is the biggest lie you've ever told?


There was this old man in our neighborhood. His name was Miguel and he had a small fruit store with an old, dusty shop-window. No matter what he did, he always did with the slowness of someone who had spent his whole life in the sun, you know what I mean? Most of the day he would sit on a creaky chair outside the shop, smoking cigarettes.

I once told my mother I was going out to help him carrying the heavy wooden boxes with oranges. Instead I met up with some of the older boys from our neighbourhood. They said if I threw a stone into the window I could hang out with them.

So I did.

I think the worst part was that even back then I knew that it wasn't just stupid but downright mean what I was doing. Miguel was just as poor as we were and glass was expensive. And at the dinner table my mother would tell me how proud she was because I was being such a good boy... man, I felt awful. Maybe it wasn't the biggest lie I've ever told but it was the first that made me so ashamed to the bottom of my soul I was even scared to go to church.

I couldn't keep it up for the life of me. I caved in after two days. When I told mom what had really happened she gave me a lecture like you wouldn't believe. Still rings in my ears today and boy, did I deserve it. She was furious. Made me go over and apologize to Miguel and help him for the rest of the summer.

Which wasn't half bad. He made one mean orange juice.


Muse: Frank Poncherello
Fandom: CHiPs
Words: 288

Go to Googlism.com
Search your name/nickname. (Make sure WHO is selected).
Copy and paste the best ones.

ponch is complaining when he notices a car fail to stop at a stop sign
ponch is left with just jon
ponch is as important to the show as salt and pepper are to my mashed potatoes
ponch is strange even by japanese standards
ponch is very single and loves to date
ponch is then expected to race his motorcycle faster than the truck
ponch is still the risk taker and john is still the responsible one
ponch is so much fun
ponch is stuck in glue
ponch is twelve years old and he has got ginger hair and brown eyes with white whiskers with a ginger nose
ponch is doing strange things
ponch is the shit
ponch is as cool as tv heroes get
ponch is a big fan of midgets and is in the middle of a project involving a island resort staffed entirely by midgets but that's another days ramble
ponch is another one of those "fallback assclowns" as he seems to be gainfully employed simply existing as one
ponch is the man
ponch is a highway
ponch is involved in an accident
ponch is driving his date to dinner in his motor home when he changes lanes without signaling

I'll pick you up at 7.

It was as simple as it was nice. Ponch couldn't think of a better way to end a Sunday on duty than with a casual getting-to-know-someone coffee (well, at least they weren't realistic alternatives). He had enjoyed his brief conversation with Angela earlier that day and he was looking forward to getting to know her a little better.

He hummed cheerfully as he parked his bike outside the downtown station. Glancing at his clock he was relieved to see that he was on time. It was important to be on time - especially when it was all about first impressions! Plus, his evening plans had reminded him of one very essential fact concerning messages:

Giving them out felt just as nice as receiving them.

When the bicycle rode past him he felt a sharp twinge of envy, the wide-eyed, narrow-throated kind. The bike was new, in a shiny red color and even had some racing stripes on the frame. Racing stripes! It was the coolest, greatest bike he had ever seen and it made him take a deep breath and hold it.

So when the auburn-haired kid flung it away, screaming furiously, Francis Llewelyn Poncherello, age five, could do nothing but blink.

( ... )

Muse: Frank Poncherello
Fandom: CHiPs
Words: 1,042

"We close at 6pm."

"Six!" he cries out and Bear shoots him a quizzical look from the other end of the room. Ponch smiles and shrugs aplogetically before he turns his back on him for more privacy. He fiddles with the cord of the phone, nervous, this has to work out! "Listen, I talked to this guy? Gerry? He told me that it might be possible to make an exception. How about 8pm?"

"Sir, with all due respect, we're not some public park." The voice sounds annoyed and Ponch rubs his neck nervously. "I have no idea why Gerry would promise such a thing, but-"

"The name's Poncherello. Frank Poncherello? We stopped your truck last week, saved it from crashing down the hill?"

There is a moment of silence. "Please hold the line."

( ... )