Redheaded Stepchild over at Say Anything... challenged me to write about the funniest popo story during my career so far. That was tough. There are years to wade through and lots of laughs. But...one sticks out in my mind. So...it's the funniest story right now...this minute.
It was a dark and cloudy night in spring of 1998. Yes, I can remember this.
Also...found my police journal awhile back. This story was in it.
Working on the Ruthless Crew...at this time in my life I was a whopping 115 pounds of police power. Mostly mouth.
Anyhoo, on my shift was a large fat bald man I called Meatball. Huge. Like Chris Farley without hair. He used to call himself Ton Of Fun. Randini called him Tubby. I preferred Meatball...it was more fitting.
On this night, we got into a vehicle pursuit which lead to a foot pursuit. Only Meatball was the lead car. That's like me running a marathon. I might get to the finish line the next day. Only because I gauk around, get distracted, and don't focus. The Boulder Boulder is my type of run...music, activities, etc. Meatball's excuse was because he liked donuts. Lots of them.
Meatball called out the foot pursuit which sounded much like cat wheezing and furball coughing. Pretty soon...we heard nothing. He didn't answer his radio. Back in those days...it was simple. No GPS. No Bat signals. No emergency buttons on our police radios with GPS tracking. Nothing.
Randini and I arrived first. The rest of the backup was behind us or around us. Some spread out in a different area, so we could be more effective in finding Meatball. Afterall, it wouldn't be very hard. Fat man...in a little ciiitttyyy....or something. Tommy Boy had been out by then and was probably our favorite movie and reminded us all of Meatball.
Turning the corner of a terraced business district, we still were at a loss. We called out...we flashed our flashlights. No Meatball. We started to wonder if he got ambushed by the bad guy. Pretty soon, we heard...
"Psst. Hey, youuu guuuyyyssss! I'm up here! Help me. Help me!"
Randini and I looked up. There was Meatball hanging off a chain link fence which was 3 feet on one side and 6 feet on the drop side. His little stumps of legs were running in place and he was going nowhere as his duty belt was hung up on the top. We busted out laughing. Meatball didn't think it was funny.
MEATBALL: "Get me down from here."
ME: Nope. You look like a trophy on a wall. I'm getting my camera.
RANDINI: Yeah...get the camera.
MEATBALL: Don't you dare. I will hunt you down.
ME: Hey, look...it's Pig On a Stick.
RANDINI: Hey, Tubby! You look like one of those Dum Dum suckers. Emphasis on Dum Dum.
MEATBALL: You guys are fucking comedians. Get me down.
ME: Maybe we ought to wait for the sergeant to get here.
MEATBALL: Get me down. You know he will write me up. He hates me.
So, Randini and I tortured him for a little bit. Then we had to make plans to get him down. I got up on the 3 foot side and Randini stayed on the drop side so he could help with the BIG DUMBO DROP. As hard as I tried with all my might to pull his duty belt off the top of the fence to release Meatball, my efforts were futile.
RANDINI: You look like a monkey fucking a gigantic football...actually like the Goodyear Blimp. Let me get up there and you come down here to this sodded area where we can drop him down.
ME: We need a damn crane.
MEATBALL: You are such a bitch.
RANDINI: Hey. Who's the idiot stuck on the fence?
AnyChristmastimebynow, Randini went up on the terraced part and I went down to the drop off side. He thought about it for awhile and looked over the Meatball situation. He said he was going to try to pull the belt up. It didn't work. He said he had another idea. Operation BIG DUMBO DROP was underway again.
Randini released Meatball's belt keepers and the belt gave way. Meatball fell. As he was coming down...I saw my life flash before me. It was slow motion. Meatball was running and flailing and falling in mid-air. I was not moving...in shock...wide-eyed and thinking NNNNOOOOOO. Down he came...and landed... on me. Knocking me over as I misjudged and he flew farther out than we all planned...his bald head hit square in the middle of my gut. It knocked the wind right out of me... for awhile. Meatball and Randini were laughing so hard they may have peed their pants. Finally, they gave a shit and asked me if I was alright.
ME: Yep. [barely able to talk]So glad you didn't land a few inches shorter. I wouldn't be able to have kids.
MEATBALL: Doh! That would have been funny!
RANDINI: Yeah, pervert.
Needless to say, Randini and I were sworn to secrecy. I agreed only because I thought I could use it to my advantage later. We made up a story and told the sergeant that Meatball's portable radio had died and of course, the fat man lost the bad guy. This is the first time I have broken my secret pact.