For BD and Eric and Ro:
Some months ago I wrote a column about a few of the people I'd worked with in my relatively brief, however exciting career in the area of law enforcement and emergency services. The evil red-headed Berta Lou best friend doll told me this morning that it caused quite a stir in the local PD. Some of the guys recognized themselves; some recognized others and some managed to escape my sarcasm.
It is my personal policy never to allow anyone escape from my sarcasm, as I am an entirely hateful and sarcastic person. In a good way, of course.
As was the case before, I will oh so cleverly disguise the names of those I lovingly attack so that you cannot use this column against them in a court of law. (And also so that they won't get mad at me and write me many speeding tickets.) Feel free to send this on to the producers of COPS. If this doesn't get them to send a film crew to RV & Corn, Kansas...nothing will.
~ The David Letterman grinning ex-Marine who enjoys long visits to the bathroom, writing disgusting greeting cards and homemade meat.
~ The matchbook throwing heartthrob with perfect hair.
~ The crazy tall, Bob-Newhart funny cop who sometimes spontaneously walked on water in Topeka, Kansas.
~ The sneaky, white Ruben Studdard officer who had me wrapped around his little finger and always sounded like he had been crying for hours.
~ The twelve-year-old Ashton.
~ The ticket-writing machine who surely forced his wife to make the "woo-woo" sound in bed because he so loved traffic stops.
~ The mean, mean cop who hated me so much I was sure he wanted me to have his big-headed babies.
~ Officer Rick James. The first few times I worked with Officer Rick, I thought for sure he was the single most innocent, sugary sweet man I'd ever met. He was as cute as a boy scout and I felt if I wasn't careful about the way I talked to him, he'd absolutely blush himself to death. As we got to know each other, I will admit I was a little off in my assumption. The fact that Officer Rick showed up for work each day smelling more like leather than any cow ever has, should have caused me to wonder. Let's just say if he was a coloring book and I was going to color him, I would not use my "innocent" crayon as much as I would my "super freak" crayon.
~ The Bionic Man: As a woman, I walk a fine line between wanting to be stared at by the opposite sex and wondering when I'm supposed to blow my rape whistle. Case in point: During my few years at the PD, there was one employee who was very sweet to me and even had a precious little pet name for me that expressed my bright and sunny personality. Although he was entirely nice to me and even on occasion bought me a little present, I firmly believe that should the need ever arise, he could accurately pick my boobs out of a line up. We never had a conversation that involved eye contact. The evil red-headed Berta Lou often said we should wear shirts with a flashing arrow pointing toward our heads.
~ Mr. Soil from An Ancient Civilization: When I lived in Germany, I worked with a local national who constantly argued with me about how wasteful Americans were to take daily showers. He wore the same two outfits the entire time I knew him and although I can't be sure, I think his favorite hair gel was Butter Flavor Crisco. It was nothing nice and I was certain I would never again meet such a malodorous human being. That is, until I was formally introduced to this guy. Prisoners would plead guilty to crimes they didn't commit just to get out of his patrol vehicle and into the refuge of a urine-soaked jail cell.
~ Most of the wives of the men we worked with were completely lovely and a pleasure to know. However, some were keepers of the cauldrons and some were brain-cell impaired:
There was Miss Nobody Says That Any More, who scolded me severely in front of many people for using Hydrox in a recipe and not Oreo's. If we had to call her husband in the middle of the night on police business, she was inclined to put an evil curse on us. I was always careful to keep my children away from her as I was positive she'd try to steal their souls.
There was Miss Run Forest Run about whom I can't say anything else without running the risk of having the mentally-challenged community leave flaming bags of poop at my front door.
And there was Miss Two Face, who is so named for the episode of Seinfeld where Jerry is dating a "two-face" chick who looks fabulous in some light and like death warmed over in others. In pictures her husband would show Berta Lou and I, she looked quite pretty. In person, she often looked like her religion did not allow the use of cosmetics…or soap… or hair brushes. Bless her heart, she didn't struggle only with her two-facey-ness, but seemingly had some blonde roots as well. She once commented to me on the two-shooter theory of the Kennedy case she'd "just heard about" and wondered if I'd heard about it as well. She was not hooked on phonics, or reality for that matter.
~ Captain Playgirl: Seriously, the one and only time I've ever seen a copy of Playgirl magazine was when I was seventeen and on a class trip and Lee Ann Bauer whipped one out of her suitcase. But, if I were a scout for Playgirl and I were looking for the perfect male specimen to sprawl unnaturally on the hood of a patrol vehicle wearing nothing but a badge and his duty belt, it would be this guy. Everyone knows I love him terrible, to include Mr. Man… who admits he can totally see why I worship him. The evil red-headed Berta Lou also loves him harder than a goat loves a stump and as close as we are, I am persuaded she would wrestle me for him.
~ Ms. Give the Kid Some Juice and Call Me in the Morning: "Well fry me an alligator and call me a sex kitten." 'Nuff said.
~ Baby Lance. Lance started working for the PD when he was so young he could only carry a water pistol and wear a sticker in the shape of a badge. I have to say though, he was the single most enthusiastic officer of them all. He was very much like my four-pound Yorkie, as he was prone to give chase after anyone at anytime for any reason. He'd chase teenagers, joggers, cars and old blue-haired ladies who were just walking to the end of the drive to get their mail. He also apparently kept raw pork chops in his pocket as crazed Pet Cemetery dogs conspired to eat him.
~ Got Any Blankets Cop: Call me a drama queen, but if I'm sitting around minding my own business and my house explodes for no good reason, it's highly likely that will come up in the conversation when I call the police department. Not so much for this laid back guy. Instead he nonchalantly asked for some blankets so he and his family could snuggle up and share quality time drawing on replacement eyebrows for each other under the stars.
So that's it then, kids. The final sarcastic installment of "Meet Your Civil Servants". After this one I may have to move to Mexico and change my name to Conchita.
Copyright © 2004-2005, Sherri Bailey
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