However, they should give me a job anyway. I could work from home. I bet I could vet and monitor their people better than they do.
The Harry Potter House is a protected fortress and they could throw the money saved from office space to give me a good alarm system (aside from the dogs). It's a thought.
Secretly, I've always wanted to clear up my "record" and have the best credit in all the land, wipe out my bills. I think that's a good negotiation. A little traveling...a little spying on the non-spies...etc. Shit. Most of these idiots broadcast their intentions on Facebook. You can read a lot from someone's posts. I am wide open. At least they know what they are getting.
Never mind the NSA can't legally spy on Americans. Sort of. So what about it? Who needs the laws, right? LOL
In the meantime, while I wait for my cushy job offer, here is a Halloween story in the middle of June about Wheels. Enjoy.
Running into houses, stealing, kidnapping, rape, and robbery. Hell...Cruella was even drunk behind the wheel. Pursuits...foot and car...seemed to be taking a toll on our utility system. Three downed power poles and power lines in one week. Family fights. Drugs.
The only thing missing was the unspoken word.
Because if you speak it, it happens.
Especially during Halloween. Don't say it.
Wheels and I ran from call to call, picking up a few zombies and putting them in jail. Run out, run back. It was like a challenge from Survivor. A few got voted off the island. Then came the lull we all long for to catch our breath...silence. Crap. That's a bad word to think, write, and especially say out loud.
Opportunity. To. Take. A. Break.
Our g-ride finally made it to the station so I could work out. After running my circuit for about 25 minutes, I got a call from dispatch.
DISPATCH: Sarge said to call you out of break. He needs you to bring Wheels for a transport and help on a a call. Now. Fast. He said to tell you to hurry.
ME: Ok. Are we the only units clear? What happened?
DISPATCH: Another pursuit.
So when the Sarge says "FAST" I just go. Like I am. In my shorts, t-shirt, tennis shoes. Running down the stairs to the basement level, I grabbed my gun and badge and yelled at Wheels.
I was only thinking of the order, not the practical sense of being fully equipped and uniformed. Don't do this today. Yes, we can laugh now.
WHEELS: Boss, you are in your shorts.
ME: Yep. No time. Let's go.
WHEELS: Ok. You can stay in the car. I will do all the work.
ME: *blink* blink*
ME: I'm the brains of this operation.
WHEELS: Well, right now you aren't wearing the pants. I am.
ME: Ok. Point taken.
When we arrived, the Sarge waved us over to his location by the suspect car. I exited in all my glory. Black workout shorts-gun-badge. Slightly resembling Barney Fife with my gun pulling down my shorts. Excellent example of a cop at their finest. Oh yeah, I almost forgot-workout hair. At least I had on designer clothing: UnderArmor shoes, Nike shorts, North Face t-shirt. Not exactly what a girl calls Matchy Matchy.
Because I support all the fashion lines, I had to sport all of them at once. A corporate advertisement. At least the colors matched. Black clothes...white shoes.
SARGE: What the..?
ME: They told me you needed us right away and to hurry. I can shoot just as good in my shorts as I can in my pants.
SARGE: Way to adjust, overcome, adapt.
ME: A little Barney Fife action going on here. [pulled up my shorts]
|It was not like this.|
Officer Big Cheese had stopped a car on suspicion of drunk driving. The female driver bailed and soon after the male passenger fled. Big Cheese captured the driver and face planted her in a pile of leaves.
She was an old doper. I had had many cases in the past involving her with meth and her children. A fine figure of motherhood. NOT. Now childless, since the State of Wyoming had permanent custody of hers, she had been filed as a Missing Person for quite some time-living off drug sales and thefts. Captured. And wanted. 6 warrants. Including delivery, manufacture, and possession of methamphetamine. And a new charge of possession.
It was a good catch.
METH HEAD MARY: What kind of cop are you?
ME: A super secret agent. We've been watching you a long time. Just waiting for the opportune moment. [So I was lying to her. What the hell? Again. Karma. We didn't have a clue of her whereabouts]
METH HEAD MARY: Why are you dressed like that?
ME: Because I blend.
METH HEAD MARY: Into what? The gym? You'd never find me there.
ME: Nah. I jog around. Haven't you seen me out there running? Surveillance.
METH HEAD MARY: [ thinking] Wait a minute. Maybe I have.
WHEELS: Boss, you are so naughty.
ME: Yes. That was an example of how not to be a smart ass on a call.
WHEELS: It's all good, Boss. She'll think we are always watching her. Paranoid doper.
Wheels was OK on his own and I went to the g-ride. My fun was over. Job was done. Mission accomplished. At least it's always good to have the dopers continue to be paranoid so they make mistakes. When they start using their own products, eventually, they find their demise. But why not add fuel to the fire?
Soon...another officer became free so he could take Wheels' place.
ME: Come on, Wheels, I have to go get some pants on.
WHEELS: Dammit, I wanted to wear the pants just once.
And the night went on. Busy. Drunks. Dopers. Fights. And Wheels graduated.
SGT. DOWNTOWN BROWN: Well? Did he make it?
ME: Yep. He's all yours. Just needs some fine tuning and some molding. [big cheesy smile] Don't forget to throw him some balls.
SGT. DOWNTOWN BROWN: Great. Another Jack Russell.
ME: He's a good kid.
SGT. DOWNTOWN BROWN: He's going east, so you can mold him on nights.
ME: Good. We like ice cream.
SGT. DOWNTOWN BROWN: You're making the kid soft. He's a Marine. We don't eat ice cream.
ME: Wheels loves ice cream. Ken is groovy like that.
SGT. DOWNTOWN BROWN: What?
ME: Inside joke.
|Was Wheels the Ken model for Marine Corps Ken in 1991?|