The cops burst into our home with their firearms drawn. Jenny and I froze, put our hands up and cried “Please don’t shoot.” The officer in front yelled “Calm down!” and proceeded to explain that they had been called here on account of a domestic dispute. This made me wince, and I argued: “But there is no trouble here.” The officer then noted the ocean of beer cans littering the floor. My face turned red with shame. The cops then asked Jenny to identify her aggressor (meaning me), so she said: “Oh, that’s my boyfriend, the esteemed antinovelist Bryan Ray, author of COP BOOK — you might have heard of it,” and she handed them a copy of the tome, which was near her on the bookshelf. The police officers glanced at its text with suspicion; then they tossed it away and beat me with their nightsticks. When finished, the head officer delivered a short speech saying that he and his fellow officers dislike having to respond to these types of calls, therefore he recommended that Jenny and I undergo professional relationship counseling. We promised that we would do exactly that.
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