PUN COPS 2

Sergeant Stephens gathered his men into the briefing room and began speaking.
"Well, men, as you might know, corruption has become an increasingly problematic occurrence in our county.  Graft, bribery, fraud... the list goes on."
One of the men raised his hand.
"Permission to speak, sir."
"Granted."
"How are we going to fight this corruption if it's so widespread?"
"Easy.  We're going to do it person by person, corrupt politican by corrupt politician.  And that is why all of you are here today.  We've been tipped off that a certain restaurant chain owner has been bribing officials with spicy South Asian dishes to overlook his flagrant sanitation problems."
"You don't mean-"
"Yes.  He's been currying favor with the local government."


"...so that's the situation so far, Captain."
"Let me get this straight.  He's a serial timepiece vandal?"
The lower-ranking officer sighed in front of his captain.
"Yes, a serial timepiece vandal.  I don't understand it any better than you do, but he's been painting obscene words and pictures on people's clocks, sundials... you know, time keeping devices in general.  And now he says he's going to paint even dirtier stuff on every timepiece in the city."
"Not on my watch, lieutenant."


Officer Reynolds looked at the mountain of paperwork sitting on top of his desk.  It loomed imposingly over him like an avalanche waiting to happen.  It was then that he wondered why he became a cop and not an artist like he had always wanted.
"But... what if I could be both?"
He imagined himself taking the piles of reports and shaping them into elegant paper sculptures.  Taking all the warrants and crafting some sort of paper-mâché masterpiece.  He would take all of the parking tickets and paperwork for monetary penalties and paint beautiful landscapes over them, enough to fill an entire gallery - a museum of fine art.


"Okay," said the examiner, "I believe I have discovered a piece of evidence.  Now, if you will, and I am sure you will based on who I am speaking to, now, if you will, look at this piece of string - yes, this stringy piece of string right here on the edge of the carpet in the corner of this lovely living room with the painting by the window, yes, that painting with the woman holding the small child with the curly little blond hair - this piece of string right here, now, if you will, I think you will find that..."
"God," said Sergreant Parkson with a sigh, "I can't stand this rambling idiot any longer.  Johnson, you brought this guy in.  Can't you tell him to zip it already?"
"Well, it seems like that would be sort of rude after calling him out all this way-"
"Look, I don't care.  Just ZYX."
"Huh?"
"Zip your examiner."