I would call Foonermints, but I happen to know what’s going on in his world, and have been advised to leave well enough alone. Or else I might have to post his bail. I mean, I like him and we’ve been buds and all, but bail? That’s a little over the line, partner. People might talk. Ladies and gentlemen, the story you are about to see is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent and for deniability in case this ever comes up in court.
It was a hot day in downtown LA. I'm LAPD Sargent Joe Kingfish, and my partner is LAPD Sargent Frank Foonermint. We were working the homicide day shift out of the 59th precinct, but since there were no murders at that moment to investigate, Frank myself were on an unofficial undercover assignment for Vice. There had been a string of reported incidents involving marijuana sales at a dispensary, and we thought we should check it out.
Frank: “I don’t know what the youth of this town are coming to, Joe. I just don’t know.”
Me (Joe): “I don’t get it either, Frank, they just don’t seem to be the cut of the same Patriotic Christian cloth as our generation, the greatest generation in history who saved the world from Hitler and Satan. Why, if we had had them when we invaded Normandy, we’d be Sieg Heiling today. Instead they listen to that hippy dippy jingle jangle rock and roll and drink LSD koolaid."
Frank: "You're right about that, Joe. But we still have a job to do, Joe, and it’s a small part but we are saving mankind’s morality for all God loving Christians. Oh, and for Jesus too, I almost forgot him. Say, what about the Holy Spirit, Joe, do you suppose we’re saving the world for him too? No one ever mentions him, but, well, enough philosophy, we have a job to do, and it’s hot out."
Joe: "Good point Frank, we should never forget the Holy Spirit. But for the moment, let’s just stick to the facts, and find some marijuana puffing addicts to arrest."
We pulled up to the suspected den of pot vice at 1503 hundred hours in a Volkswagon microbus that we had checked out from the impound lot. After donning our hippy wigs and sandals (we kept our socks on figuring that hippies aren’t too observant, and who can wear sandals without socks, anyway?) and removing our neckties, we strolled in. We noticed that there were a variety of alleged cannabis samples in jars on display, “Jungle Fever” at $50 a bud, “Peruvian Gold” at $70 a bud, and on the more economical side, “Street Bullcrap” at $10 a bud, among what seemed like hundreds of others.
This seemed to be the right place.
So, Frank and I wandered through the shop surreptitiously taking pictures with our police issue camera. The tripod mounted camera was a bit clumsy to hide, but we had to take whatever equipment that the police property department issued us. Budget cutbacks and all.
After a few pictures, we noticed that a dirty greasy longhaired no-good-nik shop clerk was following us. Our cover was that we were hippy reporters from a Communist country and had heard good things about their attempts to bring down the US Government by undermining the youth, and we wanted to do an in depth article of that for our hippie Communist Daily.
We weren't prepared for the coded secret handshakes that the clerk tried to do with us, but we just told him that the secret hand shake was different in our Communist country.
The clerk got a strange smile on his face (due no doubt to the fact that he was probably stoned - the street word - out of his gourd, as were all hippies we had been told) and informed us that they offered free sample puffs and asked did we want to try some.
Normally, we never indulge on the job. Actually, we believe it is a sin to indulge at all, both me and my No. 2 have taken an oath of abstinence before the aforementioned God, Jesus, and possibly the Holy Ghost, but since we were doing this in course of upholding the American way and to protect the American youth against the evil drug, we decided to sacrifice ourselves this one time. Also, this allowed us to actually test the product in question so that later we could offer first hand testimony that this shop did in fact offer marijuana for sale. We decided to try a sample. The clerk pointed at a display labeled “Super Manchurian Sumo Blend” (a cross of “Mongolian Morphonic” and “Japanese Mt. Fuji Freakout”) at $500 a bud.
Clerk: ”Want to try that?"
Frank (deathly afraid of needles): “I didn’t bring my shoot up rig with me, so count me out.”
The clerk pulls out a hand rolled joint: “You don’t need to shoot it, just smoke this.”
Me: “Just remember, Joe, don’t Bogart that joint, my friend, pass it over to me.”
After a single puff Frank went into a paroxysm of coughing. I managed to get it from him as he rolled on the floor with a partial lung hanging out. That looked a bit alarming, but I am nothing if not dedicated to my job, so I also took a puff.
We both came to in the E-Room of the local hospital. Apparently Frank had gone berserk and shot out the windows of the shop, narrowly missing all the commie hippy sales clerks who apparently also nearly died laughing. Then Frank and I invaded the corner convenience store next door and stole all of the Cracker-Jacks and Doritos they had on display.
Epilog: Sgt. Frank Fooner is in jail right now awaiting trial on destruction of property and petty larceny charges. My gun wasn’t loaded at the time (and I lost the bullet I usually keep in my pocket), so I only have to face the petty larceny charges.
We also learned that it is legal to sell marijuana in LA. They had a legal license to sell marijuana to customers with a doctor’s prescription, so we will also have to explain our side of things in civil court. Apparently you are allowed to sue for malicious persecution, slander, and some other things that will become apparent once we are served with the court papers (sigh).
Finally we may have to explain what happened to the camera. And those pictures that showed up on the internet.
So don’t expect Foonermints to show up here for another 5 years (6 months with good behavior, LA jails are pretty crowded). Let’s just hope he doesn’t become a hippie commie while locked up with all those immoral Holy Ghost haters.
Crabman
Email this topic to a friend
Printer-friendly version of this topic
Bookmark this topic (Registered users only)
(I will keep my 203 area code cell phone until I die, haha!)
