Party Pooper

Fireworks. Everybody likes to watch them. Some people like to set them off...myself included. Well, they're not allowed in the city. But, that doesn't stop people from setting them off, naturally.
Now, I'm not a hard ass and I'm not about to bust anyone's stones about it either, considering I used to set them off all the time when I was a kid, and then the big, big ones when I lived in the South.
But....some people like to complain. And people who like to complain a lot have a tendency to have a need to inform someone of what they have an issue with. Who you gonna call.....the police of course. Why not?
"Respond to XXXXX, caller stated that people are setting off fireworks."
Ok, usually by the time we get wherever, the fireworks are done. So, As I arrive in the area, I stop the car in the vicinity, park, and start writing my report as nothing is around.
Hark, those finely honed senses kick in and something is heard not far off. A "pop" and a "bang" and, oh, look at those pretty colored sparks and lights in the air. A CLUE (cop talk there). Must be fireworks.
Off I go, moving the car into an alley, peering through the thick, lush vegetation of a hedge row.
AH! Through that shrubbery....I see flame.
Through the hedges, over a damn fence, and across to 3 yards I happen upon someones back patio, in the center of which is a giant pile of expended fireworks....and good ones too, wish I got to see all of the show.
Now, as I begin to speak to the homeowner of whose patio I invited myself onto, the communications center calls me on the radio stating the the original caller about the fireworks called back to tell them that they observed me in the alley and wanted to say that I was going in the right direction.
Quite the sleuth, should have given him a job application on the way over.
Anyway, I speak to the homeowner and amateur pryotechnician and advise him that the fireworks are illegal in the city and that several (embellishment there) neighbors have called to complain.
"Ok. I wasn't aware. I wont set anymore off."
B.S. didn't know, but I'll play...."Ok, now you know. Have a good evening."
Now, while I'm finishing up with this good citizen, his neighbor is setting off bottle rockets and some small fireworks while I'm standing just one back yard away, shining my flashlight over their way.
Jack ass. But, again, I'll play.
To the next yard over, by way of a stone wall and another fence to hurtle, I make my way to a not as friendly mutant teenager.
"What are you doing?'
"Nothing."
Alright, ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.
"The fireworks...dude."
"I'm not setting off fireworks." as I casually look at his small pile of as yet to be set off bundles of assorted pyrotechnics.
"I watched you set them off while talking to your neighbor right over there. And should I assume that those fireworks are not yours?"
"I purchased them here, so I'll set them off."
Ok, wise ass, I think as my sharpened senses pick up on the just opened, only one swallow taken from the bottle of beer sitting next to this fine citizen on the deck railing. Oh, and he looks to be all of about 18 too.
"They're not allowed in the city."
"They're just bottle rockets and some small fountains."
"They're not allowed in the city.And I thought you said that you weren't setting them off?"
"Well, I'm going to finish them off."
Ok shitbag, I'm done with you. Could I issue him a citation? Yes. It's a Summary offense, which by issuance of a citation is considered an arrest, even though it's just a citation and he doesn't go to jail or anything, just gets a notice to appear in court and if found guilty would be given a fine to pay, between $100.00 and $300.00 depending on the judge.
Do I issue a citation?
No, as I grab his freshly opened, sans one swallow, bottle of beer and proceed to pour it over what's left of his small pile of fireworks.
"Ok then. You're done for the night. Next time you will get cited. Have a good evening."

Problem solved.

"Hey, you can't do that."
"Oh? Do you have ID? How old are you?"
"Good night officer."
"Bye now."

Problem solved.

Shhh.....Don't tell the neighbors

Got the call. "Domestic in progress." "Male on second floor and refusing to leave. Female is on the first floor."
Ok, first thing is first. Domestics SUCK!
So, upon my as swift as I really wanted to get there arrival, I see a female standing outside and quickly go inside upon sight of the nice, shiny, gleaming, POS 120,000 mile, squeaky, broken ball joint, barely working A/C, police cruiser.
Approaching the open doorway, cautiously, calling out....Ma'am, are you ok?
He's upstairs on the third floor.
Shit...even more steps.
Ok, can you come outside please?
He's up in the attic room and won't leave, she frantically states.
Ok, what's the problem? Has he hit you at all?
No, he didn't touch me, but he won't leave. I've told him he's not allowed to come here anymore. And he's been drinking.
OH, theres a F****** surprise.
Up I go, along with the other 3 officers who showed up to assist.
I hear a faint sound of someone mumbling as I call out climbing up the steep and narrow stairway.
Let me tell you...stairs suck. Not just the climbing part, but the fact that you can't see shit that's up there or around the corner when you're going up.
So, there he is, standing in the middle of the floor in an attic bedroom, pacing, and mumbling. I can smell the alcohol from the second floor. Now, I can see the eyes as well, alcohol and cocaine. GREAT.
Come on sir, lets go outside and talk.
Mumble, mumble.
What?
Mumble, mumble.
Can you speak up, I can't hear a goddamn thing you're saying.
Shh...I don't want the neighbors to know.
?
Know what?
Shhh.
Come on, let's go.
Shh. I don't want the neighbors to know.
Know what?!?
I have a small penis.
??????
WHAT?!!!!?
I don't want the neighbors to know that I have a small penis.
Ok. It'll be our secret, now lets go. Downstairs, NOW.
No, I'm not going, I have things here.
You can get them later, now lets go! As I grab an arm and start escorting.
Now, out into the hall, and something kicked. Oh, he did. Kicking, wailing, refusing to go.
What happens next is reminiscent of a wrestling royal rumble match... 4 cops piled on top of a cocaine addict, high as a kite, trying to keep him still and down so handcuffs can be placed on him.
Cuffs on, navigating the stairs was a treat. Lets just say one word, DRAG.
Outside and onto the porch, suddenly, he sees, THE NEIGHBORS. Well, he starts yelling and crying like a 1 year old, sobbing, "they know...they know." Ah, says I. "What? Know that you have a small penis?" Loudly spoken of course.
Cry, cry, sob, sob.
Into the back of that wonderful police car. Oops, he doesn't want to go in. Well, a quick statement made loudly, "Stop resisting" and a properly placed thumb into the side of the head at a certain and specific spot made him change his mind, and in he went.
Now, officer "B" who did tantalize him slightly, got the best of our little drug fiend and once into the back of my police car........
Now, most police cars are so equipped with a cage in the back. That is, iron bars separating the front and back seats with Plexiglas covering it, and iron bars across the two back door windows. Well this particular vintage, barely working model that I have this particular day, was absent the nice iron bars across the two back door windows.........
So as our little friend with the small penis lays himself don on his back on the back seat....KICK goes the window.
Great. More paperwork for your humble narrator to do.
To the station and into the holding cell.
While perusing the Crimes Code book and deciding on the charges I'm going to use a glimpse of our friend is caught on the video camera in the cellblock and I pause to watch him tear the elastic from his boxer shorts and wrap it around his neck.
Ok, enough. Off we go, myself and the House Sgt. to the cell block.
What are you doing? We ask as he sits there on the floor, crying, saying that "I can't do it."
Give me that! As I take the elastic from him.
Off we go. Leaving him to his misery....for a few moments, until we return to see him trying to rip more material from his boxers to use as a noose.
OK. Enough. Off to the hospital he goes.
So, one report for the initial domestic, a criminal complaint that had to be written and filed and sworn to at the judge for the charges filed, a report for the damaged window of my car, and a report for the medical commitment.

Court day..guess what, surprise, surprise....the girlfriend doesn't want to testify.
Oh well, I still have a conviction on the Criminal Mischief and Disorderly Conduct charges that I filed that didn't need the "victim" to testify to.

MUTANTS!