Cop Logic Part 2

"That Van guy is a smartass," McMurphy complains.
"No shit, McMurphy," Bullocks says. "They say he has more credit hours than most Grad students."
"If he's got that many, why hasn't he graduated?" McMurphy asks.
"They say he gets bored before he can finish one degree so he switches to another." Bullocks replies.
"Dumb shit!" McMurphy chuckles.

What I can't believe is those two idiots believed that story I told Angela in Accounting 4 years ago.
I am a dumb shit for taking and keeping this job though. I tell myself that every time I look at all the college graduates in my family at gatherings... Okay, there is my mother and me, the rest of the family haven't finished college. Some are still in, a few dropped out, some of them went in the military and the rest never wanted to go anyway. I went after my genius brother went and then he dropped out and never went back. And then there's my sister who may still go anytime now, she's in her forties.

McMurphy has a bachelor's and never actually been anything other than a university cop. Bullocks has a bachelor's and half of a Master's which he quit to become the head ticket writer for this University Police Department... I guess you need to have ambition. I suspect they pity promoted him to be the head security guard and made him a sergeant to make him feel like he hasn't wasted his life on parking tickets.

I run into a Bulldog named Henson on the way to my car. Fresh out of the Corps, he is. He's the worst kind of cop, the bully cop or a Bulldog
"Watch where you are going Van!" He yells from 3 feet away.
Yep, he has to actually walk 3 feet so I can actually run into him. This is the reason I try to never leave the library. Every Bulldog seems to believe it is their personal duty to shake down the "Penguins"- this is what the Bulldogs call us.
"So sorry Henson, I didn't smell your carcass soon enough,"
"You think you're funny?" His breath smells of old coffee and dead dreams.
"Nope."
"Bullshit, I bet you think you're a real comedian."
"Nope."
"Whatever Kev. I know you're just a little pervert waiting for a naked coed."
"Nope."
"Don't you know any other words than nope?"
"I do but I don't think you'll understand anything other than nope."
Blank stare. He can't process the insult. I leave him to struggle with what I said. He'll be around to embarrass and mock me later.

I drive my old Buick to the Parking Garage where I am posted. It's a dorm garage. Which is great- as in not great. This is because I will get to watch all the inebriated girls come stumbling back to their dorms, deal with their fear of me as a "cop" and then there collective derision that I can't do anything about their underage drinking. BUT, if they need an escort somewhere, I am their best safest best short of a full-on cop.

Cop-logic dictates that some University official will see me walking around a garage where a series of daylight break-ins have occurred in the middle of the night and feel like their cops are doing their jobs. Nothing is actually sound or logical about this but in the world of cop logic it does, it helps that I make a flat wage to do this so no overtime need occur.

And as smart as I am. I work for this indomitable kind of Logic.
I feel kind of stupid now that I look back on it.

COP LOGIC Part 1

Every once in a while.
The University cops have a situation that totally melts their brains and their whole sense of protocol goes up in a haze of confiscated dope being destroyed even after the DEA told them they were coming to remove it. I'm not saying this happened, but I am saying that Officer Hickle got high on something and passed out in his squad car after raiding the Belta Gamma Hiccup House.
The University had a string of burglaries in the parking garage behind Strom Gay Hall. These thefts occurred between 2 and 5 pm. This is the prime time for car break-ins, in case any of you readers are planning to embark on sleuthing or stealing.
The University cops decided they needed extra manpower to solve this problem, really nip it in the bud, so to say, so they grabbed the Smurfs and stuck them in all of the parking garages overnight. 2 shifts 4-12 and 11-7, because that made sense to someone. The criminals enjoyed 2 hours of cop free time to do their crime spree.
I, Brainy Smurf got pulled out to do the 11-7 even though I worked 2nd shift at the Library- because that made sense. Detective Murphy McMurphy explained this to me in the squad room like this.
"Does anyone have any questions?" Detective McMurphy asked after outlining his fool proof plan.
I stuck my hand up.
"Fuck me," the detective said under his breath. "What is it Van?"
"I have a question, sir."
"What is the question, Van?"
"If the car break-ins usually take place between 2 to 5, Why am I getting put in the Garage from 11 to 7?"
"I thought I made this clear, Van?"
"Could you explain it again and use larger words?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" McMurphy's beady eyes blaze.
"Dismissed!" Sergeant Bullocks yells, sensing the shitstorm about to take place.

Bat-Shit Crazy

Actual conversation:
Butter: "So dispatch sent Hicks to get the sweater."

Hervey: "Hicks?'

Butter: "Yeah, it was Hicks."

Brainy: "Man, I am sorry, Hicks is bat-shit crazy."

Butter: "Man, this is going to get bad."

Hervey: "No worries, I got this handled."

We look at Hervey as we drink the coffee.

Hicks arrives. He is the quintessential gungho cop. He lives for copping.
In he struts, full on cop swagger. One hand on his pistol grip, the other on the radio clipped to his shirt. Mustache, sunglasses up above his eyes, hat peaked back to show his salt and pepper brown hair, lanky body pounding out the beat in his too shiny clackity clacking cop boots.

"Dispatch, this is Hicks. I'm at the ML to pick up the evidence."
"Roger that."
Hicks waits. He does a pretty good Jim Carrey badass cop schtick- I mean if he knew who Jim Carrey was, of course. He leans his head to look at his radio and waits.
Nothing happens.
"Amateurs!" he loudly whispers.
He looks around, adjusts his glasses, looks at us sitting at our station, coffee in hand, makes a face then stomps up.
"You penguins are a disgrace to the force," he snarls cocking out a hip.
"Look at that Hick's blew us a cherry," I say.
"I did no goddamn thing!"
"Geez Mike, I said I'd handle it," Hervey says.
"Where the hell is the Ev-id-ence?" Hicks demands.
"Right here sir," Hervey says, snaps to attention and then hands over the garbage bag.
"That's more like it," Hicks says taking the bag. "This ain't a regulation evidence packet."
"No sir," Hervey says and pops a perfect salute,
Hicks opens the bag and sticks his head down to peer in it.
Hicks then drops the bag, looks around desperately and runs for the Public bathroom.
Time passes.
We wait.
Hervey ties up the Garbage bag.
Time passes.
We get more coffee.
Hicks saunters out, glares at each one of us. picks up the bag, turns to go then stops.
"If I hear one word about this to anyone outside this shithole then I am going to take your number down, you hear me you fuckups?"
"My number is 13," I say.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He growls.
"I like thirteen."
"Well smartass, I got my eye on you."

Then Hicks sticks the bag out as far from his body as possible and marches out of the library quickly.
We hear his siren shortly thereafter.

"Man, that dude is Bat-shit crazy." Butter says.
Hervey loses it.

Life

hey! this is just one of those blogs

I don't want to talk about it part 2

I hit the floor at a dead run.
As I clear each section, I radio Butter and yell "Clear!"
He responds with "Roger"
The Mad Shitter is not here.
"Floor is Clear, over?" I say back at the stairwell.

"Shit." is all I hear Butter say and then the radio goes dead.

I take six deep gulps of air and jog up to the penthouse.

What I find is Butter half buried in books clutching a sweater that I can tell is not his own.

What's more, judging from the smell, Butter is probably wishing he had not grabbed it in the first place.

I jog over to him and look down at his green face.

He stares at the ceiling for a while and then says.

"Tell me again, why I have this job."

I look down at him and grin.

"To meet all the ladies." We say together.

Just then Hervey comes running up. 4 hours early for his shift.

"What did I miss?"

I shrug and then we pull Butter out of the pile of books.

After Butter is upright and we stand looking down at the carnage. Hervey looks at me and then Butter and shrugs

"So?" Hervey says.

"I don't want to talk about it." Butter says and hands Hervey the sweater.

Just then several librarians arrive and join us to consider the disaster area.

"What's that smell?" One of them asks.

"What smell?" I say as Hervey begins to look green.

Butter says: "I think I need an ambulance or a shower."

"I think we all need a beer." I say.

"Coffee it is then." Hervey says crossing to a trashcan and bags the sweater in the liner.

I don't want to talk about it.(part 1)

Shift start. 2pm.
Walk floors.
Scratch that.
"Dispatch! This is badge 36, I have a 10-58, 3rd floor Umain Building."
"Badge 36. Why are you yelling?"
"In pursuit." heavy breathing. "Drunk and Disorderly!"
"Badge 36-" laughter in background "Keep it down, repeat 10 code."
"Fu-" radio cuts out.
Butter scoops up my radio from where I lost it jumping discarded books, an overturned book cart. A pretty co-ed in tight pink sweater. Those breasts pressing tight up against them.
"Brainy!" I run smack into Frank the librarian and we go down in a heap.
Butter runs by.
"Daymn!" he drawls at the two of us.
"Sorry Frank." I say as I get up and take one more look at the laughing Co-ed who then flips me off.
No love for smurfs.
I pivot and take up pursuit.
I catch up to Butter at the rear stairs behind the 1034 stacks.
"He went up." Butter says, then hand me the lost radio which is squawking.
"Would you?" I say half collapsing against a wall. I used to think I was up for this kind of abuse.
"No Prob. Dispatch this is Badge 39. We are in pursuit of a-"
"10-58"
"10-58- can we get some backup?"
"Badge 39, where is badge 36?"
"He's with me."
"Okay, take a 10-22 (muffled can I say that?)'
New Dispatchers.
The problem with 10 codes is that most of us waste more time looking them up then doing our jobs. new dispatchers are the worst.
"Sit tight girls, the cavalry is coming."
and that would be the cop we affectionately call Bill the troll.
He's one of those cops who refers to us smurfs as "Walking Targets" and thinks he's the best cop that ever lived. Which he is not, he's just another University cop who takes himself way to seriously.
"10-4." Butter responds.
"Are we actually going to wait?"
"Fuck no." Butter laughs. "This guy is not getting away this time."
"I will take the next floor."
"And I will check the Penthouse."
The Penthouse is where the Ogre and his staff reside- safely behind lockable doors that are almost always locked, but there are several grad and staff library stacks there adjacent to the offices.
"up we go!

The trouble with....

"Why are you grinning like that."
Butter wriggles his eyebrows. It's unnerving.
Women think it's cute- they should know better.
"Our man Hervey caught the Mad Shitter."

"No way."

"Well, almost." Butter sighs.

"Do I really need to know the details?"

Butter puffs out a sigh, look at the ceiling and then crosses his arms as he leans back in his chair.
We're at the security desk.

"Probably not, but I figured you might want to know before you see Hervey tonight."

"What are you not telling me?"
Yep, I am dreading the answer.

"Well, Hervey can probably tell it better than me." Butter grins again and chuckles.

I consider hitting him with my nightstick then remember I don't have one.

"But!" Butter continues before I can locate another weapon. "Word is he came back to base this morning covered in pooh."

"Pooh?"

"No shit." The grin is back and I know that tonight is going to be hell.