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!