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The old wooden doors to the retreat house swing open, and out comes Lost
Soldier (or, ‘hey stupid-ass’, as he’s more commonly known); dressed only
in a bathrobe and some Hello Kitty slippers. In his hands he grips his
newest girlfriend, that being a blowup sex-doll he bought from the local
porno shop. Her name is Becky. “I’ll handle it from here, men,” he says
in his most professional sounding voice. He flashes some lame mock-badge
he must have spent a whole 5 minutes conjuring up. The cops glare at the moron suspiciously. Nobody moves. “Just hand over the evidence,” Lost Soldier drives on, yanking the bag of coke away from the hands of the burliest cop. “I’ll take this to the.... ‘evidence locker’ and ‘file it away’.”One of the cops shrugs. “He does have a badge,” he points out. The other officers grunt begrudgingly. “Well what should we do with the suspect then?” they wonder. Lost Soldier scratches his crotch and belches. He reaches into his robe’s pockets and pulls out a bottle of bourbon and downs the remainder of it. “Uh...” he stammers. “Just uh, let him go with a warning or whatever.” And he trots merrily back into the house, smiling at his bag of narcotics.The cops shove Scott into the cold snow and leave the scene. Josh laughs nervously as snow flakes melt on his nose.
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1/17/2005 2:52:31 PM
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