Most nights, the Lawman Billy Shane, as he liked to be called, took to slaying fire-breathing dragons, fighting epic battles with demons from Hell and occasionally repulsing alien invaders from outer space. Tonight, he sat in the police cruiser in the parking lot of De And R's Rib House, training Rusty Prestwick his new deputy.
"You can't get into a pattern when you do foot patrols at night. Patterns make it easy for a perp to be where you're not," Shane said.
"I understand that but just how much night crime do we have out here in the middle of Dawes County, Nebraska. The crime stats indicate there's more trouble from older students and twenty-somethings at the community college. That's not real crime." Prestwick's answer reflected his impractical and naive book learning. Too much philosophy and not enough practical experience, thought Shane.
"Oh there's real crime. You just have to be attentive to the subtext. There's more things in heaven and earth than mere drunks and bad boys if I can paraphrase Shakespeare," Shane said. "D&D is a catchall that fits most of the dumb things that happen." Banging and hollering from the back of the Rib House interrupted.
Before either of the cops could react, their cruiser was bathed in bright lights. A bullhorn voice boomed out, "This is Agent Carl Pretzler of the FBI. I'm recently divorced and I was dragged away from my monthly access visit with my mildly autistic son to instruct you to step out of the car. Now."
"We're police officers!" Lawman Billy Shane hollered through the open window.
"I know," Pretzler yelled back. "I can tell from your 1996 Crown Victoria cruiser. However, you're under arrest. Your use of backstory and 'as you know' dialogue -- that's a crime on this blog."
Opening: Dave F......Continuation: anon.