On Top of Arrest

January 21, 2010
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Maladroit Gauche slashed his throat while shaving, burned his arm while cooking breakfast, and had his cruiser battered as he crashed into the walls of the police station. He scalded the receptionist by splashing coffee all over her dress and tripped over a stapler and got it stuck on his head.

Today, his boss called him over to the office, and assigned him to break up a robbery at the Bonestown National Bank. Maladroit had his cruiser replaced by a dented pink car splotched by inky polka dots, and lined with red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet and indigo stripes. Maladroit’s car reeked like rotting corpses, but it was the best car there was. Maladroit drove through the ghetto and sensed the riveting scent of marijuana. He did not hear the sound of paint being sprayed all over his hubcaps. He smelled gasoline and saw flames rise from the seat. The scarlet flames consumed his car and Maladroit started suffocating.

He stepped out of his car, blackened with soot and shivering in the cold with his tighty whities. All he heard was the bank alarm going off and some men in ski masks escape in an armored truck. “Come back here,” he shouted, “I am placing you on top of arrest.” Maladroit seized his billy club and whacked himself on the head. He ran towards to the truck but the gorillas unleashed thousands of bullets at him. He spasmed as blood jetted from him and he collapsed to the ground. A steamroller flattened him and his guts danced out of his chest.

He pulled himself up from the ground and wandered to a wooden building. He saw a man inhaling through a bong. “Want some coke?” the man offered. Maladroit inhaled through the bong and felt the thoughts of the robbery drift away. “That is some good sh*t isn’t it,” the man said, “want some more?”

Maladroit took another puff and started feeling woozy and drifted to sleep. The man took a can of hot tar and take delicate strokes all over Maladroit’s skin. He slipped away and giggled as Maladroit groped for the door. The man kicked Maladroit in the rear and sent him flying out the door. Maladroit smashed through the bank window and groaned in pain, as blood surged from his deep cuts.

“Officer,” a teller shouted “what took you so long?” Maladroit clutched on to his bloody crotch and groaned in pain and collapsed to the ground. A protruding lump bulged from his forehead as he slipped away into a coma. ?

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