Hi, my name is Slim Shady. I am a detective for the city of Chicago. So bring some weed I got a story to tell. It was a clear black night, a clear white moon. As he came into the window it was the sound of a crescendo. The robber noticed a girl sleeping peacefully in her queen size bed. Suddenly she awoke screaming, “Don't murder me, I beg of you, don't murder me. Please, don't murder me” A confused look appeared on the man’s face. “Funny with the money oh you got me mistaken honey! I don’t wanna rape ya, I just want the paper The visa, kapeesha? I’m out like, the vapors,” he answered. A shouting match between the two went on for a long time. Why the criminal didn’t bash her brains in is beyond me. The neighbors reported the loud disturbance almost immediately. As soon as I got the call, it was on! When I was a rookie, the most important rule was “if it's on it's on! Bitch n****s keep frontin' then your ass is gone!” Within minutes, Sheriff Doofy, deputy dog, and I arrived on the scene. The unmasked man was still upstairs in the girl’s room. Sheriff Doofy and Deputy Dog entered the behemoth house, as I was shouting to the robber from outside. “Don’t hurt the child!” I screamed like a little school girl!
“I want a car to Mexico. Oh, Mexico It sounds so simple I just got to go,” he said in a rather symphonious voice. Just then I heard yelling and gunshots from inside the house. The robber stuck his head out the window and began talking again. “I shot the Sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.” I then dropped onto my knees, shaking my hands vigorously at the sky. The armed villain once again began taunting me. “Cry me a river!” he said. We talked all night and tried to make it right. Believe me shit was tight. Soon I had had enough. I called up my good friend Paul Holt. Not only did he supply me with my favorite drugs that he stole form the evidence room, but he was the head of the S.W.A.T. team. Within seconds he arrived on the scene. A big black S.W.A.T. van pulled up, and over fifteen men poured out of the back. Paul rolled up on twenty’s in his purple, bullet-proof, bomb-resistant Ghetto Mobile. He pressed the ejection button on his seat in order to exit the vehicle (This feature was installed for life and death situations, but Paul felt the need to use it frequently). He then waved his arms in a “come here” motion and started yelling, “Roll out! Roll out! Roll out! Roll out!” He then got on the megaphone and spoke to the intruder in a calm, professional voice “I got my twin glock .40s, cocked back! Me and my homies, so drop that!” Deputy Dog was dragging Sheriff Doofy to safety when the man came out of the house with his hands up. He shouted. “I have seen the others and I have discovered that this fight is not worth fighting!”
“Get yo’ hands; up against the wall and spread them! Opposition, I can't stand them. Fuck you, fuck you! Understand; I'm not fuckin’ around with you. Try to resist I'll dismiss you, Fuck you!” The man must have been hard of hearing because he lost his head. He pulled out his chrome .45, talked some shit and wound up dead. Paul’s right hand man,
Fill in name here took out the thug like a filled Hefty bag on garbage day. “Hey man, nice shot! What a good shot man!” exclaimed Paul. The girl was not hurt, but was checked out anyway. Later, she was taken to a hospital where she died due to unnecessary surgery. To this day that story brings a tear to my eye. It spins me right round, baby, right round, like a record baby. Some people blame me for the incident. Why is it my fault? So maybe I try too hard, but it's all because of this desire to be a cop. I’ll never be a rock n’ roll star. I’ll never be anything at all! |
