By Hal Collier, Retired LAPD
The next two stories involved a dual status sergeant/detective. He was a nice guy and had the best interests of the LAPD in everything he did. He was just such a kiss ass that he was ripe for practical jokes. He was once on vacation and came in for a tactical alert. Trust me. One sergeant is not going to change the course of war on crime.
I wasn’t present for this joke, but he told it to me. He was working South Bureau Homicide and was sitting at his desk when he noticed a foul smell. The smell got worse as the week progressed. By Friday he couldn’t stand it anymore so he took his desk apart—nothing. Next, he turned his desk chair over and there it was. One of his partners had been deer hunting and tied a deer tail under his desk. Rotting flesh!
Another time—and this was all my idea—I got one of those office three hole-punches. You know the industrial ones with about a thousand little white hole- punch dots. I cleaned it out and saved the punches. I placed them in a Styrofoam cup and placed it above the closed office door. An accomplice waited outside so we didn’t get our captain.
Our sergeant, in his nice blue uniform, opened the door and stepped inside. General McArthur didn’t have that much confetti in his welcome home parade. I was pretty proud of myself until I realized I had to clean up the hole- punches. Not a problem– I’ll get the janitors vacuum and clean up the mess. Problem, the janitor’s room is locked. After a half hour search, we find a key and there I am in uniform pushing a vacuum.
It was worth it. Again your tax dollars at work.
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