I'm going to tell you a warm, fuzzy little tale from Washington Street that'll wrap your heart in a snuggly blanket of unadulterated absurdity. Just another lovely day in our nonsensical reality.
So, 8:02 in the morning and the city's finest get a terrified call about 'screaming' coming from, of all the menacing hellholes, a frickin' school. Yeah, not a chop-shop, not cheap motel rooms where teeth are kept as souvenirs, but a frickin' school.
The brave knights of the realm, sworn protectors of our peace, buckle up, dial their adrenaline down to 'bored shitless' and roll towards the supposed chaotic pandemonium, which on any normal planet, would be little Jimmy and Susie enjoying a game of tag.
Only in this tin-foil hat world of ours, laughter and playground howls could quite possibly be a sign of a child army amassing or maybe a rogue teacher gone berserk with a packet of Pop Rocks and a can of Coke.
Lo and behold! Wave your surprise flags! The officers find...children playing on the playground. Oh, the horror! Tiny tots frolicking in the sunlight as they master the art of 'tag, you're it!' or 'kick the can' or whatever these kids do these days. A sight sure to curdle the blood of any Washington Street denizen.
And just in case you're wondering how our boys in blue figured it out, I reckon some crack detective work and skills of deductive reasoning Sherlock Holmes would kill for. A real whodunit mystery 'Who was screaming?' was it the kid on the slide or the one in the sandbox?
Well, they check it all out and here's the payoff it all checks out OK. Hell, I bet they even helped push a swing or two in the spirit of community service and public safety.
So there you have it, ladies and gents. Just another day in the laugh-a-minute thrill ride that is Policing 101: Hashing out and figuring out the intricacies of over-zealous citizens losing their shit over kids being kids.