Friday, January 16, 2009

Seven, Oh What The Hell, Eight Things

Cookie tagged me (again) and I am supposed to tell seven things about myself that people may or may not know about me. Here goes.

1) My sister, my brother and I were adopted. My birth certificate is dated 1958; I was nine years old. Don't ask about the sperm donor that I refuse to call my father.

2) The very last memory I have of the sperm donor is while I was playing on the front porch of my grandfather's house. Two huge cops in dark blue uniforms were looking for him. I think I was about five or six. A shrink could have a ball with that given my chosen occupation.

3) I have a dead brother named Michael. He had red hair and blue eyes. He was allegedly a SIDS death but after years of police work and my knowledge of the sperm donor, I suspect that Michael may have been shaken and stirred like a freaking martini before his death.

4) The man I call Dad once told me that he fell in love with the three of us before falling in love with my mother. I remember having a tiny little fishing rod - I used to sit on his lap and fish in his bellybutton while he was dating Mom. He died in 1990.

5) My Mom and Dad came from NYC, they lived only two blocks apart in Brooklyn but they never knew each other. My grandparents (on my mother's side) moved to Merrick, Long Island when she was young. My grandfather was a conductor on the Long Island RR for many years.

6) I graduated at the top of my class in the regional police academy in 1974. I was also the best pistol shot.

7) I once made two burglary-in-progress grabs in one day. The first grab was my first call out of the barn at about 2315 hrs. The jerk tried to coldcock me with a bicycle when I cornered him on a porch. The second grab was the last call of the day at about 0615 hrs.; this guy was armed with a handgun.

8) Oh hell, here's one more. I was working vice and I was the bait for the whore detail. I was in a downtown dive and I made the deal for a bj with some blonde hooker. I walked out of the bar with her and gave the high sign to the cover car down the block where another vice detective was sitting, waiting for me. As he pulled away from the curb, the hooker made the car and got a little panicky.

She grabbed me by the neck and said "It's a cop! Maybe he'll think you're my boyfriend!" She then planted those God-awful lips on mine. I thought I was going to puke. I wanted to wash my mouth with battery acid. She got arrested. I never asked her what she was doing with her lips before she kissed me nor how many times she had done it.

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