Your Intrepid Reporter was, ah, arrested for the sixteenth time [that’s the best estimate I could get out of the court-appointed defense attorney after two weeks. Yes, I know it would have been a simple matter of discovery. He, um chose not to use that tool in his arsenal] Friday afternoon, at around two-thirty in the so-called after noon.
Now, what did the Old Man Miguel Cabron do and say that got his arrested, yet once again. What the story. eh.
So I stepped off the sidewalk, once, while whistling O Solo Mio I believe it was, in front of the what they call Peets Coffeehouse, although it otta be called Peets Cafe.
Better, Petes Cafe.
Where was I? Oh, thats right, Pete;s Cafe. Corner a Northeast fifteenth and the same street that runs by my house, the street on which is located, mind you the mailing address of both the Cascadia Chapter of the Pacific Green Party of Oregon and that of the so-caled Eastside democratic Club. Weidler street.
So.. Yah. I um stepped off the sidewalk, I say, onto the bicycle lane in front of this here Peets outfit.
Three police cars came screeching to a halt right beside me and three uniformed blue beach balls sprang into place on three sides of Your Intrepid Reporter the Man Who Sleeps in a Leather Vest.
A rather overreaction, you say?
You DARE to question the expense of making sure Miguel Cabron is no threat to the unarmed, unsuspecting, innocent public?
Just shut your trap bub and you won’t get any broken fingers.
So, having the polite invitation to step to the sidewalk Your Intrepid Reporter did just that. He declined the chair offered him and sat instead at the other chair at the table where I had my coffee, my soda water and my I believe it’s called a “smoothie,” if I err not.
I then learned that a native Spanish speaker was among the blue beach balls surrounding me.
So I said, in Spanish, that his partner seemed to have such a young and pretty face.
To you and me, that’s just slightly off-the-wall; but to a macho Mexicano it is enough to suggest that he is homosexually involved with his cadet.
I was arrested for saying, in Spanish, that the rookie cadet who stood along with the native Spanish-speaking officer has such an unusually pretty face.
If that hadn’t worked, mesdames et messieurs, I was prepared to say, again in Spanish, that it had a certain charm, to caress pimples in the dark.
I would’ve been lucky to have escaped beating for that line.
But Mr Meo! Mr Meo! How can you say that Wille Halliburton would have done the PPB proud? Wouldn’t he have at least slapped your face when you suggest, in language the rookie cannot understand, that his cadet’s pimples are a turn-on for you?
No, Sergeant Willie Halliburton wood not. I will explain why not in a minute, but believe me, there is a good and sufficient reason why Sergeant Willie Halliburton would not have “defended” the sexual purity of his cadet’s cheeks, hither or nether.
‘kay. If he let his facial hair have its way, Sergeant Willie Halliburton would resemble quite closely any other teacher of the hadith that you see crossing the soukh; you’d comment only that that particular teacher of hadith had regular features, he didn’t have a screwed-up eye or dribble out of a sneering lip.
And I think we can agree on all hands that if he did not employ mechanical means of depilitation Sergeant Willie Halliburton would still retain his regular features. But, ladies and gentlemen, mesdames et messieurs, Damen und Herren,
Willie Halliburton does not want to look like just another teacher of hadith, only one with regular features.
No, he wants to look just like a competent police officer in River City, the capital of Cascadia [lots of provinces have capital cities that aren’t the biggest; so even if Seattle and Vancouver BC are both bigger, our own Portlandia is the real capital of Portlandia — I mean Cascadia. Oh well.]. And he has, as a consequence, shaving bumps.
So, were Your Intrepid reporter to suggest in a language his cadet could not understand that the Asshole stinking of Sour Diesel found [that’s in the subjunctive mood, for you grammar groupies] said cadet to have exquisitely sexy pimples, Sergeant Willie Halliburton would give an ironic bark, and then say to his buddy/partner/rookie student cop something along the lines
“Roger, this is Mister Meo. Welcome to the jungle: he wouldn’t kick you out of bed.”
And I would give Roger my best toothy grin.
And they would go along, with Willie Halliburton having yet another Mr Meo story.