It was around midnight when I got my very first radio transmission on the police scanner.

As usual, I was interrupted again. I was in the middle of masturbating; visualizing myself getting a sweet blow job from my employee named Debbie. By day, Debbie worked for me. She was this quiet little mouse with a sweet pair of tits. By night, I don't know.

This was my second scanner. The first one I bought at Radio Shack was a piece of shit, with only two of the four channels working. This new one I got was off E-bay, and I had out bid a 15 year-old by 20 bones for it. Sorry little buddy, but your little weekly allowance doesn’t quite compare to the big bucks daddy pulls in as manager of a Subway restaurant. Recognize!

The call from the dispatcher was asking for, and I quote “all north units please respond to a 10-33 at Lake and Main Rd North.” A 10-33 was code words for knife fight.

I was on my way.

As I quickly slipped into my batman costume, different scenarios of what would happen started to race through my mind…

I pictured myself on top of a tall, dark building over looking the action of these two mean mother fuckers going at it with switch blades. I’d make some cat noise and they’d look up and notice my menacing pose. My mere monster presense would send them running scared. Effortlessly, I would glid from rooftop to rooftop hunting down victim number one. I’d eventually catch up and swoop down upon him taking him out in a matter of milliseconds. Make that nano-seconds.

Of course, Debbie witnessed the whole thing, as she just happened to be driving by on her way to her sister’s. I’d let the other one get away out of mercy, I’d tell her. She would get so turned on by the way I handled the situation, within minutes, I’d be fucking her behind some dumpster in a back alley.

I also pictured myself showing up and taking on the two fags at the same time. It would be a royal rumble, but my grappling knowledge from following Ken Shamrock’s career in the UFC would pay off. Again after, me and Debbie fucking in the shower.

Back to the situation. I hopped into my tinted Ford Taurus and headed off. Green day was kicking on the radio. I don’t mind Green Day, but I ended up switching it over to Alanis Morrisette’s new single.

When I got close to the intersection, I turned the radio off and pulled over to the side. I was feeling a bit light-headed. I couldn’t tell if it was because I was nervous or if my blood sugar was running row. I figured it was the nervousness. After all, I had taken my daily shot of insulin for the day.

A block away, I could see the cops were already there. I was already mentally prepared for that though. I pulled out my binoculars that used to belong to my grandfather. He used them in WWII actually. I slowly scanned the area. I could see three crusiers and an ambulance parked infront of some bungalow. No activity going on outside. Shit, where were my two motherfuckers? I also looked around for Debbie.

I ended up circling around the neighbourhood for about a half hour. Finally the cops and ambulance left in no rush. Empty handed, it was probably a false alarm or something. Note to self: Get a god damn scanner for the car.

So everything was cool and I was about to drive home, but I decided to double check things out for myself. I mean shit, I wasn’t going to waste twenty minutes on gas for nothing. I ended up parking the car on the street behind the house. Carefully trying not to rip my costume, I climbed over a couple fences and crossed through a couple backyards, where I casually strolled up to the back of the house. Standing beside the only window with a light on inside, I slowly moved only my head into view.

I saw a latino male teenager and his mother both casually watching television. The kid looked like Pedro from Napolian Dynamite and the mother had a shirt on that read “Got Milf?”. I chuckled to myself at that one. She was an ugly fuck.

Next day, at work I asked Debbie what she did that night. She mumbled something about hanging out with her boyfriend, and then asked me:

“Pffft” I said, as I tried to crack my neck. “I’d tell ya, but then I’d have to kill ya.”