There was an NPD cop who was about 6' 5" and weighed over 300 lbs. Let's call him Fiddle Fudder. He did play the fiddle, but his real talent was eating. Fudder couldn't get through the night without hitting the Burger Palace for three or four burgers, a plate of fries, and a few Cokes. To him, a hamburger was an hors d'ouvre, eaten, literally, in two bites.
A wide body needs a lotta grub and Fudder was always on the prowl for munchies. One night, he was at 4 Corners, trying to keep awake, when a loaded watermelon truck rumbled by. Fudder's food radar alerted with a loud stomach growl. Firing up his cruiser, he was on the truck like Cryin' Jimmy Sweigert on a hooker, and pulled him over. The driver, innocent of any offense he knew of, asked Fudder why.
Your truck is overloaded, Fudder said. Looks to me about two melons heavy.
The driver nodded, knowingly, climbing up into the bed. Selecting two, prime melons, he showed them to Fudder, who smiled and nodded. The driver then hurled the melons off the truck, smashing them on U.S. 41.
That about right? he said.
He got no answer. Fudder was still standing there, with his mouth open, when the truck drove off.
* * *
Fudder had a German Shepard, Bubba, that was his constant companion. Stopping by the PD to gab one evening, he left Bubba in the car. Big mistake. Fudder never went anywhere without emergency rations and he'd just bought a dozen tasty donuts. They were in the car with Bubba.
Need I say more? Fudder stayed in the station, talking, longer than he'd planned. Finally returning to his car, he found the donuts box empty, and Bubba lying on the seat, groaning. But with a strange satisfied look on his face. Bubba, you see, didn't know the donuts rule; not even a cop should eat a whole dozen. Doing so will make your bowels loosey-goosey and your pucker string unreliable.
Fudder was so upset he gave Bubba a punch. Bubba responded by, uh, spray painting the interior of the car with liquid donuts. This upset Fudder more, and he poked Bubba again. More unmentionable squirting. And so it went.
Over time, Fudder and Bubba forgave each other. And, after Fiddle Fudder's vigorous scrubbing, the car cleaned up and looked presentable. It always had, however, a strange Krispy Kreme/outhouse aroma about it.
Thanks again, Dave, for the help.
A wide body needs a lotta grub and Fudder was always on the prowl for munchies. One night, he was at 4 Corners, trying to keep awake, when a loaded watermelon truck rumbled by. Fudder's food radar alerted with a loud stomach growl. Firing up his cruiser, he was on the truck like Cryin' Jimmy Sweigert on a hooker, and pulled him over. The driver, innocent of any offense he knew of, asked Fudder why.
Your truck is overloaded, Fudder said. Looks to me about two melons heavy.
The driver nodded, knowingly, climbing up into the bed. Selecting two, prime melons, he showed them to Fudder, who smiled and nodded. The driver then hurled the melons off the truck, smashing them on U.S. 41.
That about right? he said.
He got no answer. Fudder was still standing there, with his mouth open, when the truck drove off.
* * *
Fudder had a German Shepard, Bubba, that was his constant companion. Stopping by the PD to gab one evening, he left Bubba in the car. Big mistake. Fudder never went anywhere without emergency rations and he'd just bought a dozen tasty donuts. They were in the car with Bubba.
Need I say more? Fudder stayed in the station, talking, longer than he'd planned. Finally returning to his car, he found the donuts box empty, and Bubba lying on the seat, groaning. But with a strange satisfied look on his face. Bubba, you see, didn't know the donuts rule; not even a cop should eat a whole dozen. Doing so will make your bowels loosey-goosey and your pucker string unreliable.
Fudder was so upset he gave Bubba a punch. Bubba responded by, uh, spray painting the interior of the car with liquid donuts. This upset Fudder more, and he poked Bubba again. More unmentionable squirting. And so it went.
Over time, Fudder and Bubba forgave each other. And, after Fiddle Fudder's vigorous scrubbing, the car cleaned up and looked presentable. It always had, however, a strange Krispy Kreme/outhouse aroma about it.
Thanks again, Dave, for the help.
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