DO YOU EVER WONDER?

Since Jack introduced me to the world of blogs, I have read quite a few. Some I go back to and others, I try to forget. There are tons and tons of reading material. Just about every and anything. I'm still exploring the world of blogs and finding my favorite sites.

As for Jack's site and all my other favorites to date, I check daily. As I read I can't help but wonder what the person looks like. Based off of their writings my mind tries to picture them. I know what Jack looks like, I see him almost everyday. Next to Jack's site, I've been reading Kim's the longest. My mind sees her a certain way, but I know I may be way off. The same goes for Trashman and Wanting. I can't stand not knowing who is talking. I know this is a form of release for these people but I still want to know. If I did know what you all looked like, would it ruin some of the readings? Maybe.

Some sites offer pictures of the writers. A Diva in Red, puts her picture up for all the world to see. It doesn't take anything away because it's always been there. The same goes for April, even though she just gives us a peek.

I'm not sure why I'm writing this, other then curiosity. You all have great blogs and I will continue to read no matter what. Hell, I don't show myself on my blog.

Hats off to all of you, keep up the great work. I was just wondering out loud.

SHE DIDN'T SAY THAT, DID SHE?

I grew up on a small ranch in South Texas. We had cattle and horses and one big ass garden that I hated. It was the best place a kid could grow up. Lots of land and plenty of stuff to do. I started my rodeo career right on our ranch. Five years old and rode a little bull calf, I got tossed and hit my head on fence post...no major damage done.

My Grandpa, Dad and just about all my Uncles were bull riders. I had no choice, it was in the blood. It was great, but as a past post stated, it all ended way too soon. So, I found a new job and went on. Found a nice girl that could put up with me and got married. We didn't have a lot of money so we moved into a duplex in the city. No country boy should live in the city, you can't even piss in your own backyard without some old busy body calling the cops on you.

When I got into law enforcement, we had to move closer to the department. We had a house built in a subdivision (in the city) and it's very nice. We were the 3rd house built in the sub and had built right next to another police officer from a different department. We fast became great friends, his family and mine, we were like family. We put up our fences together and built a gate joining their backyard and ours, all was great.

Then one day they came to us and told us they had to move. It's a very long story so I'm gonna spare you the details. Anyway, the house was vacant for several months. We really didn't want anyone to move in because we knew no one could be as good a neighbor as the Chapa Family.

So one day we see this moving truck unloading boxes and stuff, but we don't see a family. We were going out and didn't have time to go and introduce ourselves. Days went by and we saw the family every once in a while but we still had not met them.

Let me interject, I have a 5 year old son and a 3 year old daughter. We have tried our best to teach them manners and to be well behaved. We are honest and have used all the correct terms for body parts (don't get ahead of me). We have been told by numerous people how polite and well mannered our kids are.

Back to the story. So one day we're in the backyard with the kids and a ball goes flying over the fence. Well Mrs. Q is back there and tried to toss it back but it hit the kids swing set and went right back. So Tamara goes to the gate and opens it and gets the ball from Mrs. Q. I walk over and introduce myself and Tamara. Mr. and Mrs. Q do the same. So we talk and explain the gate and the Qs seem really nice.

I call the kids over and introduce them and the boy says hi and then takes off to play. The girl comes to Tamara and she picks her up. She's a little shy and doesn't say much and we continue talking to the Qs. So now we're about done and getting ready to go inside and we're saying good-bye and the girl says "Mommy doesn't have a penis. Daddy has a big penis, boy has a little penis." As the shades of red start to fill Tamara and myself, Mr. and Mrs. Q are now laughing their asses off. Mr. and Mrs. Q, who knows what they think, only time will tell.

Don't you just love children? Out of the mouths of babes.

NO, MEANS NO

Back when I was on patrol. One of the cities in my jurisdiction sent a call to an officer. I heard the call and was not busy so I thought I would go and see if I could assist. It turned out that a lady nearly 80 years old had been raped.

While at her house, a man she knew who sometimes helped her around the house, came over to visit. She let the man in and she fixed them each a glass of tea. They drank their tea and talk about nothing important. As she was taking the empty glasses to the kitchen the man grabbed her and forced her to the bedroom. The woman was no push over and fought back, kneeing the Prick in the crotch. This did not stop the Prick however and he forced himself on the woman.

The woman did not want to tell us that their had been penetration, however after some calm talking and understanding the woman gave us the above story along with the Prick's identity. The other officer went with the woman to the hospital and I went to the Prick's house.

The house was really a cabin with two rooms, a main room and a bathroom. The Prick was not there. About two hours later there was a shift change and the first officer went home and his replacement arrived. We filled him in and he and I continued to search for the Prick. Some hours went by and I advised the Officer that I needed to get some grub. I decided just to hit a drive thru so I could get back to the hunt.

I had already expressed to the 2nd Officer how important it was to me, that I be the one who would catch this Prick. Nothing pisses me off more then someone who has to force himself/herself on a person (woman, man, child). I don't understand how anyone can get excited when the victim is screaming, crying or not wanting to be with that person. No means No, what's so damn hard about understanding that? So I'm sitting at the fast food drive thru and the Officer calls me on the radio and says "I just saw movement in the house." I tell the Officer don't move I'll be right there. I have to turn on my overhead lights to get out of line and just about break the sound barrier getting to his location.

Once there the Officer shows me where he saw the movement and with our lights off we creep up the the cabin. The Officer goes to the back and I take the front. Before he can get to the back I tell him the front door is open. I enter the cabin and the Officer is now behind me. I'm thinking to myself "Please put up a fight, oh please." I want to deck this Prick so bad I can taste it. I call out "Police, come on out, we know your in here." I get no response. The game is up, this Prick is going to hide, and fight when I find him. We search the main room and bath, not there. The last place is the closet.

I approach the closet and swing the door open...nothing but a big pile of clothes. I put the gun on the pile and kick it with my big black boot and hear, "Ahh". I reach in the pile grab the Prick by the hair and yank his ass out of the closet. Prick starts screaming "don't shoot me, please don't shoot me." He's now on his hands and knees and I kick him in the ass and onto his belly he goes. I holster my gun and pull out the handcuffs, I'm thinking to myself again "fight me prick, just act like you want to fight," but the Prick is chicken shit and gives up.

The Prick gave a full statement and is still locked up. Justice served? Maybe. The Woman had to live with it the rest of her life, it didn't go away with him. But, at least he'll never put anyone else in that situation.

IT'S A BIRD, IT'S A...AH, IT'S JUST ME

That's Me

Just thought I would let you guys out there see what I look like. We all have to wear a uniform, I picked this one. All the other narcs get to pick their own also. I wish I had picked one with boots. My feet sure do hurt at the end of the day.