One Response to “America’s Mean Streets”

1. Bruce Says:
   January 27th, 2008 at 9:38 am

   I just have to post this…  A guy in the Fark.Com comment thread about this news story, left the following.  It is brilliant.

   It was another Friday night in Allentown. I had plans. Drink and try to pass out before Leno started sucking. Then the cell phone ran. "Inspector," the voice at the other said, "There’s been a double homicide."

   Homicide in Allentown is easy. The perp is usually ten feet away from the vic, sobbing. Knife in the sink, gun on the table. It was a fight over the last beer, joint or a girl with all her teeth. I can usually close a homicide case before the blood dries.

   But one look at the victims told me Leno would have to suck on his own tonight. They were torn apart. Shredded. "Are you sure these guys didn’t just spontaneously explode?" I asked the crime scene guy. Crime scene guys have no sense of humor. Ever since TV discovered them, they think they’re David Caruso with talent.

   The crime scene guy looks at me and says "These guys were mauled, Inspector. By a cat. A big cat. Maybe two." Now, I’m guessing these CSI guys are drinking like Caruso.

   So I step out of the alley to get some air. I notice this guy watching the scene. You can always tell if they’re involved. The ones that know something get real nervous when you look back. I would have noticed this guy: He’s wearing a weird hoodie and two big furry house slippers.

   I start over to talk to the guy and he takes off. He can move pretty fast in those huge slippers. Yeah. Like a cat. He beats it down the street and I get so rushed, I forget to yell for backup. I catch a glimpse of him ducking down another alley but when I get there, he’s gone.

   I figure he’s hiding. The alley dead ends in to the back of another building. I say loud enough, "I just want to talk." Nothing. Suddenly, on a fire escape two floors up, I see him. How he got up there, I’ll never know. He takes off his slippers. They look like little lions. Cute anywhere else. Then he hurls them at me. Again cute but annoying. He says "Simba and Kimba. Kill the interloper."

   And I kid you not. Those two house slippers turned in to the biggest, meanest lions you’d ever see in an alley in Allentown. They start for me slow and roaring. I’m loading my shorts with a meal I ate in 1982. The lions are about to pounce when out of nowhere a woman appears. All I see is red hair and leopard print bikini. She lets loose with a jungle yell and throws a net over the lions. Instantly, they turn back in to slippers. Shoeless Hoodie guy yells "Jungle Kate! You’ve spoiled my plans yet again" and tries to run. But without his slippers, he’s just a fat bad dresser and falls off the fire escape. Jungle Kate takes the slippers, sprinkles some powder over them and tells me "Their magic is no more." She hands me the slippers, leaps to the fire escape and disappears in to the night.

   I walked the perp back to the crime scene. I told him if he just confessed to the crime, my hat, which has strange monkey powers, wouldn’t beat him to death. He sang like a canary and Leno did suck that night. But not as badly as usual.
    

   This guy is Good…

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