Lost

"I'm prepared to scour the Earth for that motherf**ker. If Butch goes to Indochina, I want a ni**er waiting in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass." - Marsellus Wallace, Pulp Fiction

Sometimes, blog posts just write themselves. Especially when you deal with idiots and toads all day. Take last night. for instance. The Queen of the Toads drug her ample backside into roll call, sat down, and immediately fell asleep! I kid you not. I smacked my partner, and titled my head at Sleeping Ugly. My partner took his flashlight and shined it in her face, startling her into semi-consciousness. (This is the same "cop" who fell asleep in her police car at HQ.) M.T. - the "cop's" first and middle initials - scowled and said, "I'm gonna slap you!"

M.T. is a study of incompetence. She leads the league in most offensive categories, including sick time abuse, vacation days used, and roll calls missed. None of these, however, can hold a candle to the squirrel's nest she calls a hairdo. It's bad enough that she resembles Shirley Hemphill from What's Happening?, but does she still need the 70's afro, too? Content to flaunt her non-compliance to departmental directives, M.T. has (on separate occasions) dyed her hair pink, maroon, and purple! That may be a good look for Pandy, but not for a police officer.

So, it was no surprise when after spending 51 minutes writing a parking ticket, she stopped answering police radio, who had called and checked her status. No answer. After three attempts to raise her, the sergeant came over the air: "Have a unit go to her last location and see if the officer is there." She wasn't. Now, cars are moving in to her last known location to assist in the search, and a certain nameless co-worker (*cough* Wagonsux *cough*) sends me a text message which says, "Operation Find M.T. is now in effect." I laughed so hard, I almost drove off the road.

It is now ten minutes into the search, and still no sign of M.T. Almost every car in my district is in the area, searching high and low for her or her vehicle. We get bupkis. Now we're getting pissed, primarily because we know she's asleep somewhere. Thirteen minutes after the search begins, M.T. finally comes over the air, by saying (incredibly), "10, I'm available." That's all. No explanation, and no acknowledgment of the unanswered calls.

The sergeant immediately comes over the air, and says, "What is 10 car's location?" M.T. says, "I'm at (the location of her last assignment)." This is impossible, because I am at the location of her last assignment when she says that. The sergeant then says, "Have 10 car meet me at the diner." M.T. responds, and then turns on to the street where I am sitting. She is moving pretty fast, as if she were in a big rush to get back where she was supposed to be. As she approaches my car, I roll down the window to see if she is okay. Well, I never got the chance, since she blew right past me. Nice gal.

After the meeting, word gets around that M.T. claimed she was assigned the illegal parker job, went there, wrote the ticket, and resumed patrol. Then, radio re-sent her back to the same location (as if they would do that), and she was enroute back when we were looking for her. As Dr. Evil would say, "Riiiiight!" She never explained why she didn't answer the radio the dozen or so times she was called. Not that it mattered, since the sergeant bought her line of b.s., and was defending her later to the troops!

M.T.'s nametag says "M.T. Xxxxxx." It should say, "M.T. Head!"