The Wandering Detectives...

to protect and serve
trolling the streets for cute boys
while undercover

You've all heard about that random homo that was kidnapped, killed and found later with bones exposed; flesh rotting in the Alabama sun. He was minding his own business, walking down the street heading home after going to the store or wherever it is in Alabama that homos walk to and walk back in the middle of a well lit street, having a false sense of security.

He was snatched off the side of the road by two strange men in a dark car, never to be seen again, except for his picture on hundreds of flyers taped thruout the town, offering a reward for any information that might lead to his whereabouts. Unfortunately for him, he's dead. Myself however, I am very much alive, and have taken note of his untimely demise when walking outside to and from places in an effort to pay better attention to my surroundings. (Of course that statement doesn't really apply when I'm listening to my iPod and have no concept of the world outside my head, but that's another story.

After Andrelaso, Principio and myself met up with L.L. we headed back to Brooklyn to feast on Martinez, the luxury cuchifrito that delivers. We ordered the food and then realised that we had no coke. So with the food on its way, we headed out into Sunset Park to find a box of Coke cans. At first we went to the grocery store on the corner, a glorified bodega, but with check out lines and less produce. We knew they wouldn't have what we were looking for, but it was close, so we tried anyway.

As expected, they did not have regular Coke cans, however they did have Pepsi and Diet Coke, but those both taste like shit, so we continued down the block to the real bodega, the one run by the Arabs with the bangin produce section. They did not have cans at all. They had one liter bottles of Coke with Lime. Still not what we were looking for, so we left. The almost-grocery had two liter bottles of Coke for cheap, we should have bought them, but I was hell-bent on cans. They stay longer, bottles go flat, who wants that?

As we leave the bodega and walk down the street, a car with two white men slowly roll up on us. Thinking homo blood bath, I immediately switch into self-preservation mode. With the adrenaline flowing and the pupils open wide to capture all the light we notice that they're trying to talk to me. I don't talk to strangers so my conversation was minimal and I slunk back away from the road for I was freaked out. In an attempt to ignore them, hoping they'd go away, we continued on when I spotted a small market across the street.

We make it to the crosswalk and now they got the deer-stare goin on. Checking me out hardcore, I try to just play it off and continue on my mission. Then they get out of the car. Meanwhile, the other two have identified our strange men as NYPD Detectives. That's phenomenal. I just wanted a drink, and now I have this to deal with. The best part, they think I'm cracked out -- high on some kind of whatever.

Now with the body in self-preservation mode, our boys in blue are sure that I must be on something for my eyes to have such a dramatic reaction. I try to tell them that I am not on anything, but unfortunately they don't believe me, and began to ask the other two if I was on something. They say no, but the dramatics continue.

It was then that my father's voice came into the back of my head... "If you ever have any problem with the police, always remember that I was a policeman and we stick together. Use this card [Fraternal Order of Police Membership] in the event that you need backup." So I did. You know, I say, there's really no way I'd be cracked out like that. My father was a police officer in Rhode Island and I wasn't raised like that. ::Produce Card:: As one is looking, the other asks me, "If there's nothing wrong then what's the problem."

To which I reply...

We're homos. You know -- we like the dick. And with the two of you creeping up on us in your dark car, I freaked out because that's when homos go missing.

Andrelaso and Principio take a step back, knowing they heard what I said, but unsure if it was all in their head. The two detectives step back all kinds of confused like now what do we do and I just stand there with a look of whatever-the-fuck on my face, clearly freaked out and disgusted. They told me that what I had revealed to them was "too much information" and that my friends need to find me a "happy stick" because clearly I like it and was in need. If they only knew what happened Saturday night. Bidding us a good evening, they return to their car and leave us in the middle of 4th Ave.

Andrelaso and Principio still speechless continue with me to the market, we purchase a two liter bottle of Coke and get the fuck home. I didn't hear the end of it all night, but that's ok, because even tho I got the shit scared out of me, we were fine and the homo bashers turned out to be police. While I was profiled by the undercovers walking with a negro and a thugged out gringo, at least I wasn't the victim of a hate crime.

We have an All-Points Bulletin for three minority homos going from bodega to bodega, take caution, they're suspected to be cracked out and extremely dangerous...