Ding-dong, fellow college-age persons! Is this a sick party happening or what? Buddy of mine, Craig, told me that it’s you guys who are the ones who throw the whackest (or is it most whack?) parties on my beat, I mean street. Mind if I come in?
Cool, cool, cool. Cool setup. I really dig the posters. Pink Floyd? Tell me about it, right. Can’t believe Dark Side still holds up after what, thirty-five, thirty-six years? Unbelievable. Who do you guys think rocks the most, Floyd of Zeppelin? Classic debate.
So guys, point me towards the keg! I got to thinkin’ and the thoughts I’m thinking is I’m thinkin’ drinking. Oh. No keg? BYOB eh? Hmmm…novel, novel.
Let me just turn my ballcap around here. There we go.
Well if there’s no beer for a thirsty twenty one or two-year old like myself to drink, then I know another way to get all buzzed up. You know what I’m thinking? A l’il marihuana. Some of that Mary Jane. Ol’ Schedule IV. That goofy green stuff that you can roll like a cigarette or smoke out of a water pipe or bake into brownies and sell to school children. You holding?
No. I’m not a cop.
And frankly, I’m a little offended by the suggestion. Come on bro, dude. I mean dude I’m just trying to get high, man. Get a little wacky off that weird ‘backy, you know?
What do you mean nobody calls it weird ‘backy? That’s what everyone calls it down at the office. Uh, yeah the office. I work at an office. But it’s in the back of like a record store or something. And anyways where I come from, Kitchener, everyone calls it weird ‘backy. That’s like the name for it on the streets or in the dorms in the hash dens or whatever.
Oh, so what? So you guys don’t have hashish dens anymore? Come on. Are you serious? Busting up a place like that used to be a gas. All those stoned hippies just—what? Yeah man, that’s what we call it in Kitchener, guy. When you really hit up a den and inhale some serious hashish smoke it’s called busting it up. Like as in, “Oh man we really busted up that hashish den last night, what an irresponsible time!”
I told you. I’m not a cop.
I’m just one of you guys, you know? Just looking to pal around and get a little nutty. Do some weed and drop the needle on the Floyd and see what happens? What do you mean you listen to Pink Floyd on your iPod?! Come on, guys! How can you even pretend that you’re coming anywhere close to hearing it!
Whew, sorry about that. Still got a bit of pent-up aggression from that game of pick-up frisbee I was particpating in earlier. But it’s like I’m saying. Sure. Sure I look a bit older, and heavier, and my face seems a bit more dour and compromising. But so what? That’s how everyone hangs their head in Kitchener, bud.
And it’s interesting you mention it, being a cop I mean. ‘Cos I was reading the other day in some youth culture rag that a lot of people assume that if you ask a cop if they’re a cop they have to tell you or else it’s like entrapment, right? But really that’s not true at all. It’s much, much more complicated than that.
I mean ‘cos think about it, right? Like remember that episode of Hill Street Blues when Belker and Washington are undercover at the X-rated movie theatre? Well you think if someone, like let’s say the guy selling popcorn, was like, “Oh are you guys cops?” you think they’d just say, “Oh yeah we are and we have to tell you” and then pack up and head home? Wouldn’t make for much of an episode. Wouldn’t make for much of a Thursday night.
What do you mean you don’t know who Detective Sergeant Michael Belker is?
You’re all under arrest.