Tales from the Cop side.

Upon occasion during my tenure as a police officer I have been dispatched to calls that have left me wondering (at times aloud), what am I doing here?

Below are a few of the more interesting forays into the strange and unusual I felt compelled to share. Some are from calls I have been on and others relayed by fellow officers but all have one thing in common; they illustrate that truth is stranger than fiction.

“Hey, don’t put that there”:

One of my favorites was relayed by a fellow officer. This one is difficult to reproduce in a manner that is safe for work but here goes…

The officer was dispatched to a disturbance call to find one irate and irrational wife and one humiliated husband.

The wife had been away from home and apparently had arrived unannounced. To her dismay she found her husband in the bedroom with…

I know what you’re thinking but you’re wrong. This is the part where it gets dicey.

Apparently he had her “sex toy” firmly ensconced in a southern region of his anatomy. For some unknown reason this upset her to the point where she found it necessary to dial 911 and enlighten the police as to her predicament.

What can I say? What could he say? I’m not aware of any law that prohibits utilizing said object in said manner.

Simply a case of when Mom’s away dad will play.

“Hold the Mayo”

This one was relayed by another officer as well:

Receiving a call of a disturbance at one of out local trailer parks the officer arrived to find an elderly gentleman with a face full of mayonnaise.

The officer asked the man what had happened and the response read something like this:

I asked my wife to make me a ham and cheese sandwich. She put mayonnaise on it. She knows I don't like mayonnaise so I told her to take it off. She got mad and pulled the sandwich apart and smeared it in my face. When she was done wiping the mayonnaise on me she put the bread back together and handed it to me.

Problem solved.

I don’t know why he is complaining, she has apparently just adopted the Burger King motto of “have it your way”.

In another food related incident:

“Would you like fries with that?”

I and my partner were dispatched to a disturbance call in one of our local neighborhoods. We arrived to find husband and wife inside screaming and yelling.

As we entered the house it looked as if the interior had been painted by a modern art master.

Bright splashes of yellow, red and assorted pastels adorned the interior of the apartment. The smell of mustard, ketchup and other food items was overwhelming. The refrigerator was open and all but emptied and every surface covered with food. Even the ceiling was dripping ketchup.

We found our two combatants still eagerly engaged in a food fight and nonplussed at our arrival. Neither was interested in making a statement or refraining from their culinary assault on each other.

After a few choice words of encouragement and the addition of some exclusive fashion accessories (aka handcuffs) they were ready for their grand prize on this real life version of “Hell’s Kitchen”: an all expenses paid cruise for two to the gray bar hotel.

I truthfully don’t know who called the police but I’m guessing whoever it was had been a victim of domestic seasoning (or condiment abuse) in the past.

“I told you I couldn’t wait”

One of the strangest calls I can remember was a domestic dispute I was dispatched to.

When I arrived I found a distraught wife amid a house that looked like a hurricane had recently passed through it.

The wife went on to explain that she and her husband had been involved in a verbal dispute and that her husband had trashed the house. That’s not the worst of it she explained. Apparently as a sign of protest he had dropped his pants and left a steaming pile of feces in the living room.

When questioned about the errant poop he admitted that he was just mad and wanted to prove a point.

I’m not sure what his point was but he certainly proved at least one thing; he has no problem with regularity (thought I was going to say he was full of s**t didn’t you?).

Stay tuned, with each passing day on the beat I drift further into the abyss of the strange. More to come…

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