Poem: Police Reports
The random, gnarled nature of life is not always worth investigating, but sometimes it is.
Police Reports from the Bozeman Daily Chronicle in the month of May, 2013.
A full size refrigerator was found standing in the middle of I-90 near the airport at 6:30pm. The Highway Patrol was called to check on it.
One wonders, what’s in the icebox? Empty? Beer? The foreleg of a deer? A note
saying “Dahmer ate here”? That’s bad. How sad a lost fridge on the freeway can be.
A caller reported seeing what looked like a “giant squirrel, possibly an otter” crawl into the engine of a Buick parked on Main Street around 4:00 p.m. Animal control was called.
A warm spot for a nap, who doesn’t love that? Buicks have big front ends, every
varmint knows that.
A caller alerted Police that an older man was driving a large sedan extremely slow and kept stopping in the middle of the road around 6:30 a.m. He was possibly driving a Cadillac.
Life is rich when you can party all night, stop on the way home for a nightcap of
dawn, and take a shot of sunrise with your phone.
A caller found a man wearing only underwear sleeping in a dog bed in the caller’s garage around 7:30 a.m. The sleeper was intoxicated and did not know where he was.
Sleeping in briefs or naked is the optimal way to repose, and though it’s best to
rest in a bed that befits you, when your dogs are drunk and howlin’, you crash on
the go.
Someone called to say a window had been broken and a pie was missing from their fridge.
Who wouldn’t steal a pie given the chance? Especially if it was banana cream
topped with chocolate shavings and made with lard. Was the fridge later found in
the middle of I-90? Life intersects in delicious ways.
Police found a 75-year old man reported missing. He was standing on his front porch.
Geezers are ghosts. Like this man on his porch, I am an apparition, apparently
invisible. I get super bad service, even from cell towers. Beer, not invisibility, is my
superpower. Of course, my wife is kryptonite.
A bike with a sticker on it that said, “They still hang bike thieves in Montana,” was stolen from the high school.
This is why the Vigilantes were formed. Someone’s steed was thieved. Necks were
soon stretched. One way or another, vengeance will be fetched.
Someone broke into a Jetway Drive home and moved things around.
A guy I know once broke into a cabin and rearranged the furniture to mess with
their minds. He was out of his own, really high.
A called reported a man was digging a hole in his backyard at 4:25 a.m.
Unearthing something he’d buried there no doubt. Bundle of cash in a rubber bag,
a pistol, brass knuckles, bones. Or his cat expired, tumbled off the
window sill at night. Catatonic. Adios, Jack.
Such fun to read!