A Benny Hill Moment

I was studying the object before me with intense abandon. It was roughly twelve inches long and three inches wide. I had never experienced one like it before. It was inconspicuous in its design and yet its size was imposing. I was about to prod it with my finger, but was forced to pull back my hand. The warmth it was radiating caused me to rethink my next move. I decided that I should pick up the object to study it closer. My hands were trembling as I reached for it .

There was a sudden hush behind me, giving me reason to pause. I turned to those around me to assure them that I knew what I was doing. However, it wasn't my actions that had given them alarm. I followed their line of sight to the window next to me.

Outside, an elderly woman had slipped on a patch of ice on the sidewalk. My first instinct was to go to the hapless woman's aid, but a man and woman had already reacted to her plight. The woman, wearing high heel boots then performed an almost perfect Salchow which ended in a classic split. Her sudden acrobatic move included an elbow against the shoulder of the man which launched him into a swan dive onto the old lady.

The scene seemed to playout in slow motion until the three bodies settled into a momentary freeze frame. The woman maintaining the split may well have wished she hadn't worn a dress with a thigh-high slit. She could only guess how many witnesses saw that she was wearing a passion-pink thong and was in serious need of a wax job. The man who made the dive, his head next to her knee, probably was wishing he didn't have such a close-up view of the woman's charms. The old lady meanwhile was probably praying that her olfactory senses would not be assaulted by any emissions from the man's backside. That backside was mere inches from her face.

Two other Samaritans came by and were able to untangle the three bodies. Because of their positions, the man was the first to be assisted. The two passers-by managed to hoist him up and off the old woman. They then helped her to her feet, one retrieving her cane and the other fetching her pocketbook. As this was happening, the diver was trying to pull the splitter to her feet. She was in obvious pain and was grimacing. It was possible she'd pulled a muscle. Her skirt by then had ridden nearly up to her waist. Exposed as she was, she had one more moment of embarrassment to endure. The spreading puddle beneath her could only mean one thing. She had wet herself!

From my seat by the window, the whole event had been almost surreal. The old lady? She was across the street fending off the attempts of the two Samaritans to assist her any further. She smacked one of the men on the shin with her cane. The old bird was apparently none the worse for wear. The acrobatic woman was led back inside by the diver. She was limping slightly as helped her to the lady's room door. She emerged a few minutes later carrying a plastic shopping bag which no doubt contained her wet thong.

It suddenly struck me that I could very well have been watching a rerun of a classic Benny Hill program. A stifled chuckle within my chest was trying desperately to burst forth into out-of-control laughter. Inspite of the ordeal the three had endured, I visualized a funny posting for the day. In my mind I could hear the theme music of Benny Hill.

Good grief! I realized I was in the middle of a delicate dilemma. The object still had to be dealt with post haste. It was no longer warm. Was it no longer active? I dared to touch it, but only after exercising precautions. I picked it up gingerly and slowly hefted it in my hands. All of my traing and all of my experience had come into play. Any more delays would have been unwise.

A bomb is a bomb. It had to be disarmed. I had to be sure.

The seconds turned into minutes as I began to dismantle the object piece by piece ... Bite by bite ... as I disarmed the large Steak Bomb!

No.554