Every day is a good day for relaxing in the sun and playing volleyball. We have a court down the street from our police station, and I go there with my fellow officers often.
We also like to skateboard. We’re all pretty good.
I went horse-riding with Officer Samantha and Officer Clara last week. That was fun. The ranch owners told us not to try any tricks, but our stallions were frisky and wanted to run and leap over fences, so we left the boundary of the property and galloped around the outskirts of the town for a while; then we returned at sundown. The hostler was forgiving — he knew it wasn’t entirely our fault: even so-called tame animals have a mind of their own.
The next morning I made breakfast for Officer Samantha and Officer Clara. It was a dish with tortillas, eggs, tomato-chili sauce, refried beans, cilantro limón rice, and guacamole. I served it to them in bed. They were surprised and grateful. We all cleaned our plates.
At the moment, I’m golfing with Officer Stevens. I’m dictating this memoir into my cassette recorder between holes. We’re going to play a full eighteen, and then we’ll drive to another course and play another full eighteen after that.
On Wednesday I plan to go to the bookstore with Officer Emily. We will find several titles and read them together and love them. I will then buy her dinner.
A crime shall happen eventually, I’m sure; and, when it does, I’ll hop in the patrol car with Officer Thomas. We’ll take Highway 35-E into Burnsville, after answering the distress call. Most likely we’ll park in front of a shop that sells miniature figurines that are made out of glass and which are shaped like forest creatures. A crook will probably be inside this shop, attempting to steal a glass figurine of a deer. Officer Thomas and I will kick down the door and aim our handguns at the culprit and yell “Drop the merchandise!” The small glass deer will fall to the wood floor and smash to pieces. I will then reach into my uniform’s secret pocket and pull out my checkbook — while using my non-dominant hand to keep aiming my gun at the culprit, I shall sign the check and address the shop’s owner as follows:
“Here, I’m offering you a blank check — I trust you to write in the amount that will cover the damage (with regard to the broken deer figurine, as well as any chips or scratches to your flooring). Officer Thomas and I will sweep up, after we book this creep.”
Then I’ll tear off the check and place it safely on the countertop near the cash register, and the owner will most likely be very thankful.
My partner and I will then bring the thief to the station and fill out some paperwork; after which, we’ll return to the figurine shop and clean up the shards from the accident that happened earlier in the day.
Before we leave, I assume we’ll strike up a conversation with the shop’s proprietor; and we’ll all get along so well that Officer Thomas and I will ask the guy to lunch. — “It’ll be our treat,” I’ll declare; “just hang a sign in your window that says ‘Sorry, we’re temporarily closed because we took a break to go dine with Officers Thomas and Bryan Ray. The shop will be open again in three to seven hours. In case of an emergency, call 555-GLAZMAN’ — that’s your business number, right?” And the shop owner will say “Yes, that’s correct. OK, I’ll put up a sign that says those things. Thanks for giving me advice.”
Then we’ll all go to lunch. I’m thinking we’ll be in the mood for Chinese food — I’ll order the Peking Roasted Duck; Officer Thomas will have the Kung Pao Chicken; and Brad, the owner of the Glass Figurine Shop, will choose the Sweet and Sour Pork. Our total will come to $122.81 dollars; and I will leave ten times that amount as a tip for the staff.
Sometime soon I should also wash and wax our patrol car. There are droplets of blood sprinkled all over its exterior, because of the gun-fights that we’ve gotten into over the last few days. The combination of intercepting drug deals plus simple misunderstandings with other armed citizens leaves our cruiser looking gruesome — I prefer to drive a nice, clean vehicle.
I also fancy settling down and getting married sometime in April. I’ll try to find a woman who’s dark and mysterious; then ask her permission to engage in courtship. If I can finish up the wooing by the end of the month, I’ll be able to start a family by early next year. (Nine months is the normal gestation period for humans in Minnesota.) I could then teach my infant how to become a police officer. And it would be even better if my wife and I experienced a stillbirth (that is, if our child were born dead), because then we could try again to produce a life — it’s often enjoyable to merge carnally.
And I try to focus on the positive aspects of reality, but sometimes it’s wise to admit that what goes up must come down; so, after we wed, it’s only a matter of time before my wife and I agree to enter a trial separation period and then ultimately to begin divorce proceedings. I sure hope that I can find a decent lawyer. And, if we produced any children together, we’ll need to figure out which one of us shall be awarded legal custody. I hope it’s me, because I’d like to be a single dad for a while.
Then, also, once I’m divorced, I can get remarried: My hope is that I’ll be able to find another woman who will accept me despite the fact that I’m now damaged goods. The best would be if I could tie the knot with a fellow divorcee — then we’d be equals. But I would make sure that my second wife has a different hairstyle than my first wife. And, if she has kids of her own, then I’ll become their stepfather: I’m sure they’ll like me.
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