Last month, the PD served an arrest warrant out in the ghetto. I guess they'd planned to just pick the nigger up and take him in, but ended up being there for a couple of hours...that's how long it took to write up all the TNB that was punishable by law. We were called in along with CPS because of the Niglets.
I was partnered up with a single mother of two that day, and while I won't call her a nigger lover, she's certainly a bleeding heart. Gets all weepy around anything to do with kids, even Cadbury Jungle Bunnies. Anyway, we get on scene, get the gear out when one of the officers comes over and outlines the situation for us.
Skinny Buck missed his court-ordered drug testing, prompting the liberal judge who let him out on that condition to issue a warrant. Cops get on scene, Fat Sow tells them he isn't home. Just then Skinny Buck shouts from the bath room "Who at da doe?" Real criminal masterminds, these ones are. Upon entering the house, the boys in blue see indications of criminal activity (big shocker), and well, the whole thing started spiraling into an investigation. When they rounded up all the niglets, they found them to be in less than mint condition.
We examine three kids, none of whom are Skinny Buck's btw. All of them have bruises and cuts, but one particular niglet looks like someone used him for batting practice. Two black eyes - one swelled shut, cigarette burns on his forearm - some recent, a lot healed over, contusions on his head, and massive bruises on his chest and back. I ask what happened but he's pretty much catatonic. The only interest he shows is in my penlight.
My partner has tears running down her face as we lead these kids out of the house to the bus. All of a sudden I hear this wailing scream and spin around just in time for Fat Sow to tackle me onto the drive way. "YOU AIN'T TAKIN' MY CHILLIN'!!!" I get the wind knocked out of me by her 400lb girth as she sandwiches me into the concrete. While I'm banging on her head with my metal trauma clipboard, the cops are trying to pry her off of me (no easy feat). My partner by the way is hugging the niglets and staring at my predicament like a deer in headlights. They manage to drag her off, I stand up just in time to see her break free and come charging again. I start choking up the clipboard, knowing it's like shooting a bb gun at rhino, when all of a sudden I hear the sweetest sound in the world: the snapping of a tazer pumping it's electric payload into sheboon flesh. She collapses onto the ground, wired barbs protruding from her back flab, writhing and screaming in pain and after multiple orders from the police, finally submits to being handcuffed.
Not too much happened after that. Dropped the kids off, signed a critical incident report, and headed back to the station to take a shower and change into a new uniform. This was the first, and hopefully last time I will ever have a nigger on top of me. I'm still pissed off that she wasn't cuffed before I got there...never did get an answer to that one.
My partner went back to working in a rural part of the county where niggers fear to tread.