Details to Swallow

If you think hanging out with the PO-leece is a fascinating way to spend the day, you've never tried to pry the particulars from a reticent detective . Actually, the constable in question was nothing but helpful the other day when a couple of competitors and I convened on the scene of fresh misfortune. I'll keep the greasy details to myself; mainly because they were in such short supply that afternoon. No bother. Half the time the key to responding to spot news is merely proving you were there. Sure, we'd all love to see Bigfoot stumble from the thicket and tell us where his weed was, but more times than not you're lucky if an officer wanders over and drops some cop-speak...

"Suspectgainedentyrat1400hoursatwhichtimeresidentsfledonfoot"... Who talks like that?

Lotsa occifers, that's who. Hell, I'm convinced they take a specific course at the Academy focused on draining the color out of the English language. It's understandable, really. There's plenty of talking hair-do's standing by to hype, extrapolate and misconstrue. I think that's why most cops prefer dealing with photogs. We're far less accusatory, often own property in the area and rarely travel with a stack of autographed 8X10 glossies (Well, there was that ONE guy). I know that if I were the bearer of bad news, I'd be more trusting of some rumpled roadie than a licensed spotlight hog. That's not to say all reporters are bad. Some of my best friends are reporters! Besides, what's to tell before the CSI guys arrive? Oh and when I say CSI guys, I'm not talking about those trenchcoated couples cracking wise in primetime; more like some dude in a wrinkled jumpsuit with smudged eyeglasses and a spit cup in his truck...

Now, what DID we chat about there at the lake? Honestly? Leftover meatloaf vs. babyback ribs, the stickiness of your average mast and the strange case of the reporter who photo-blogs her every other outfit. Now THAT'S a talker...