Case #9 - re The People vs Smilin' Bob (A two-man pie eating contest)
Smilin' Bob and I were partners for about a year on the graveyard shift (aka Earlies aka EMs). Bob earned his nickname,because, ironically, he never smiled. Bob was as stone-faced as Mt Rushmore.
One night Smilin’ Bob and I got a call at the, “Baker’s Square”, restaurant, on Carson Street and Vermont Avenue. They were getting ready to close and wanted us to chase a transient away. Since it was closing time for the restaurant, when we were done with the call, the manager came up to us,
“Hey, we really appreciate you guys coming around. Here’s a little token of our appreciation you can take back to the station.”
The manager presented us with two pies, a banana cream and a strawberry. I thought that was very nice of him and knew the guys at the station would appreciate it.
I held the pies in my lap, as Smilin’ Bob peeled rubber out of the parking lot and straight across six lanes of traffic to cross Carson Street. He drove directly into the darkness, at the rear of the closed businesses, next to the, “In n Out”. I set the pies on the floor between my feet and asked Smilin’ Bob what he saw that prompted him to drive back there. He just looked at me and showed his teeth. This startled me at first, then I realized he was doing, what passed for him, as a smile. We had been working together for six months and this was the first time I’d seen him do something like that. He always wore a deadpan, poker faced expression, never a hint of what he was thinking, or feeling. I searched the darkness for a prowler. When Smilin Bob reached an area that couldn’t be seen from the street, he stopped and got out of the car. I followed suit, with my gun drawn, ready for trouble.
Smilin’ Bob walked to my side of the car, saw my gun, chuckled and said,
“Relax.”
He reached into my side of the car and pulled out the two pies, placing them on the car hood. He was now sporting a full on grin. I could actually see all of his teeth. He rubbed his hands together, then pulled the pies out of the package, setting them on the car hood and asked me,
“Which one do you want?”
“What do you mean?”
“Which one do you want? Strawberry or banana?”
“What are you fuckin nuts? You think I’m going to eat a whole one of those pies?”
Smilin Bob's smile faded as he contemplated the pies for a moment. His smile reappeared, bigger than before, as he solved the dilemma in his mind,
“You’re right! I don’t want to eat a whole pie either!”
I was glad he had come to his senses. He then broke out his buck knife and proceeded to cut each pie in half,
“We’ll each eat half of each pie!”
Quite a solution.
“Dude, we’re supposed to take these pies back to the station for everyone to share! They aren’t just for us!”
But Smilin’ Bob was nothing if not determined.
“Look Wayde, we got two pies here. That’s SIXTEEN slices, TOTAL…at the MOST! We got twenty one people on duty tonight, including the civilians. That means five people won’t get a slice. Oso’s the Dispatcher tonight. You know damn well he’s gonna eat four slices. That means eight people won’t get a slice. Fat Sam is the Watch Sgt. So you can write off another four slices. Now eleven people out of twenty one aren’t going to get a slice. So only ten people, less than half the crew, are going to get a slice. That fat-ass secretary from Lakewood is gonna take two, when she doesn’t need one and shouldn’t even get any, because she’s just working here on overtime from another station. Now only nine people are getting a slice. Greg Adams is the Watch Commander tonight, so he’s gonna take two, on the principal that he’s the Watch Commander, so he should get an extra slice, now only eight people are getting a slice. Serena’s working Jailer. The guy weighs 270 pounds! You think he’s not gonna grab two slices? PUHLEASE! That leaves TWO slices. One for you and one for me. There’s gonna be a lot of unhappy people if we take these to the station, because there isn’t enough to go around. And those people are gonna be mad at US. And the people who ARE gonna get a slice, don’t need it. We’re doing Oso, Fat Sam, Serena and that secretary a favor by not taking them any pie. Believe me Wayde, this is the only solution that makes sense. You want a fork or a spoon?”
I couldn’t argue with SB’s logic. I reluctantly ate my half of the strawberry pie and my half of the banana cream pie. As I slowly chewed my way through each delectably, sweet mouthful of fresh pie, I had to keep reminding myself that I was taking the hit for the team. Smilin’ Bob scarfed his way through his share of the pies, looking at me with a big foolish grin and uttering the occasional, muffled,
“Tee, hee, hee...” between bites, as he looked guiltily around to see if anyone was coming.
Verdict – Smilin' Bob, the Court finds you Innocent on a legal technicality. We are all familiar with the legal doctrine of, “What happens in the car, stays in the car”. While this disgusting example of selfish, gluttony did not occur, “…in the car…” case law has found that the cited legal doctrine extends to “…on the car...” as well. Get out of my sight you selfish bastard, and wipe that foolish grin off your mouth…and the whip cream too while you’re at it! However, You are being sent to remedial tactical training. I don't think you fully grasp the tactical concept of, "slicing the pie".
Smilin' Bob and I were partners for about a year on the graveyard shift (aka Earlies aka EMs). Bob earned his nickname,because, ironically, he never smiled. Bob was as stone-faced as Mt Rushmore.
One night Smilin’ Bob and I got a call at the, “Baker’s Square”, restaurant, on Carson Street and Vermont Avenue. They were getting ready to close and wanted us to chase a transient away. Since it was closing time for the restaurant, when we were done with the call, the manager came up to us,
“Hey, we really appreciate you guys coming around. Here’s a little token of our appreciation you can take back to the station.”
The manager presented us with two pies, a banana cream and a strawberry. I thought that was very nice of him and knew the guys at the station would appreciate it.
I held the pies in my lap, as Smilin’ Bob peeled rubber out of the parking lot and straight across six lanes of traffic to cross Carson Street. He drove directly into the darkness, at the rear of the closed businesses, next to the, “In n Out”. I set the pies on the floor between my feet and asked Smilin’ Bob what he saw that prompted him to drive back there. He just looked at me and showed his teeth. This startled me at first, then I realized he was doing, what passed for him, as a smile. We had been working together for six months and this was the first time I’d seen him do something like that. He always wore a deadpan, poker faced expression, never a hint of what he was thinking, or feeling. I searched the darkness for a prowler. When Smilin Bob reached an area that couldn’t be seen from the street, he stopped and got out of the car. I followed suit, with my gun drawn, ready for trouble.
Smilin’ Bob walked to my side of the car, saw my gun, chuckled and said,
“Relax.”
He reached into my side of the car and pulled out the two pies, placing them on the car hood. He was now sporting a full on grin. I could actually see all of his teeth. He rubbed his hands together, then pulled the pies out of the package, setting them on the car hood and asked me,
“Which one do you want?”
“What do you mean?”
“Which one do you want? Strawberry or banana?”
“What are you fuckin nuts? You think I’m going to eat a whole one of those pies?”
Smilin Bob's smile faded as he contemplated the pies for a moment. His smile reappeared, bigger than before, as he solved the dilemma in his mind,
“You’re right! I don’t want to eat a whole pie either!”
I was glad he had come to his senses. He then broke out his buck knife and proceeded to cut each pie in half,
“We’ll each eat half of each pie!”
Quite a solution.
“Dude, we’re supposed to take these pies back to the station for everyone to share! They aren’t just for us!”
But Smilin’ Bob was nothing if not determined.
“Look Wayde, we got two pies here. That’s SIXTEEN slices, TOTAL…at the MOST! We got twenty one people on duty tonight, including the civilians. That means five people won’t get a slice. Oso’s the Dispatcher tonight. You know damn well he’s gonna eat four slices. That means eight people won’t get a slice. Fat Sam is the Watch Sgt. So you can write off another four slices. Now eleven people out of twenty one aren’t going to get a slice. So only ten people, less than half the crew, are going to get a slice. That fat-ass secretary from Lakewood is gonna take two, when she doesn’t need one and shouldn’t even get any, because she’s just working here on overtime from another station. Now only nine people are getting a slice. Greg Adams is the Watch Commander tonight, so he’s gonna take two, on the principal that he’s the Watch Commander, so he should get an extra slice, now only eight people are getting a slice. Serena’s working Jailer. The guy weighs 270 pounds! You think he’s not gonna grab two slices? PUHLEASE! That leaves TWO slices. One for you and one for me. There’s gonna be a lot of unhappy people if we take these to the station, because there isn’t enough to go around. And those people are gonna be mad at US. And the people who ARE gonna get a slice, don’t need it. We’re doing Oso, Fat Sam, Serena and that secretary a favor by not taking them any pie. Believe me Wayde, this is the only solution that makes sense. You want a fork or a spoon?”
I couldn’t argue with SB’s logic. I reluctantly ate my half of the strawberry pie and my half of the banana cream pie. As I slowly chewed my way through each delectably, sweet mouthful of fresh pie, I had to keep reminding myself that I was taking the hit for the team. Smilin’ Bob scarfed his way through his share of the pies, looking at me with a big foolish grin and uttering the occasional, muffled,
“Tee, hee, hee...” between bites, as he looked guiltily around to see if anyone was coming.
Verdict – Smilin' Bob, the Court finds you Innocent on a legal technicality. We are all familiar with the legal doctrine of, “What happens in the car, stays in the car”. While this disgusting example of selfish, gluttony did not occur, “…in the car…” case law has found that the cited legal doctrine extends to “…on the car...” as well. Get out of my sight you selfish bastard, and wipe that foolish grin off your mouth…and the whip cream too while you’re at it! However, You are being sent to remedial tactical training. I don't think you fully grasp the tactical concept of, "slicing the pie".
I am loving these stories.. Going to forward your link and get you on my podcast!
ReplyDeleteKeep them coming.. LMAO.. C
Thanks a lot Chris. I'm pretty surprised there haven't been more comments. On FB people haven't been too shy about commenting, but here, it's crickets. If it weren't for the graphing software, I would think I was wasting my time. I'm seriously thinking about that podcast you suggested. I'm just writing down topics, so I know I have several months worth of topics up front. Thanks for the flying lesson and video, too. That was very cool! Wayde
DeleteI couldn’t argue with SB’s logic.
ReplyDeleteCarries some sense, I just couldn't eat more than a few slices.
I'd happily let SB have some more.
I couldn't do that! Then I would have been increasing my partner's chances of getting diabetes, or at least increased his chances of becoming a fat ass, and what kind of partner would allow that to happen to his partner? I toughed it out.
Delete