Alvin placed the chair back on the porch and descended the steps to meet the approaching police officer. The officer didn’t look at all like a cop. His hair flowed down to the middle of his back, his shirt was untucked, he was very thin, and he wobbled when he walked. He held a cell phone up to his left ear.

“Well, I gotta go. I gotta make an arrest. Huh? Oh, I don’t know. Some asshole. Yeah, I got some stuff. Later. Bye.”

Alvin, less than two feet away, stared at the cop.

The cop flipped his phone shut and stuck it in his pants pocket. He looked at Alvin with heavy-lidded, bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t think there will be any need to make an arrest, sir,” Alvin said.

“I didn’t just drive out here for nothing.”

“I think it’s just a misunderstanding. Someone broke into my house. That’s the person you should be arresting. My wife is in there sleeping.” Alvin pointed over his shoulder, hoping the strange man was staring out the window, hoping to catch his arrest.

“No one broke into your home. What are you doing outside?”

“Trying to get back in.”

“Sounds like you’re the one trying to break into a home.”

“It’s my home.”

“Are you the one who called?”

“No. I left my phone inside.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look, Officer ...” Alvin studied the man’s nametag. “Fuckpants?”

“Yeah, I’m Officer Fuckpants.” His lips twitched with suppressed laughter as he spoke.

“I locked myself outside and when I tried to get back in I saw a man in the kitchen.”

“Maybe because he’s the one who lives here.”

“No, he doesn’t. I live here.”

“Is it that guy?"

Fuckpants pointed to the house. Alvin saw the man in the glow of the kitchen, staring out.

“Yeah."

“Yeah. He’s staying here. I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to take you in. Don’t make this end up in a restraining order.”

“What? Why are you taking me in?”

“Breaking and entering. Disturbing the peace.” The cop leaned in and sniffed. “Public intoxication. You’re wiped out, man. Let me take you in and you can get a little rest. Get your head cleared.”

“Ludicrous.”

“Follow me.”

Alvin thought about protesting and saw his list of charges escalate: resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer. “It’s okay to be upset. Nobody likes to get arrested.”

Was this guy even a cop?

“I need to see a badge,” Alvin said. “I’m not going anywhere until I see a badge.”

“Gimme a fuckin’ break.” Fuckpants reached into his back pocket and pulled out a beaded hemp wallet. He flipped it open and stuck the badge less than an inch in front of Alvin’s face. “There ya go. That badgy enough for ya?”

Alvin had no idea what a real badge looked like. It looked like it was made out of metal, not plastic. Was that good enough? He didn’t know. Probably didn’t have much of a choice.

“Come on.” Fuckpants began walking toward the squad car, pulled half up onto the curb like he had arrived during some great emergency. “You’ll have to get in on the passenger side. Backseat’s full.”

Alvin glanced into the backseat. A fat man in a white t-shirt lay sprawled across it, either deeply asleep or dead.

“I guess I should put these on you.” Fuckpants pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Put your hands behind your back.”

“Honestly.”

“When I show up to the scene of a crime and some crazy fucker’s tryin’ to break out a window, I become concerned for my personal safety. I’m sorry if you don’t see that as an issue.”

Alvin turned around, pressing himself against the car, and held his arms behind him. “Aren’t you going to read me my rights or anything?”

“You don’t have any.”

The cold cuffs encircled his wrists.

“That’s too tight.”

The cop chuffed out a breath. “You’re lucky they ain’t cobras. That’s how they do it some places. Wrap a couple cobras around your wrists for cuffs. That’s some scary terrorist torture shit, you ask me.”

Fuckpants closed his hand around Alvin’s left arm and guided him to the passenger side of the car. He opened it and crammed Alvin in.

Alvin stared back at his house. There were people on the roof. About six of them. They wore black coveralls and gas masks. He squinted at the lettering on their backs. Acme Demolition. They dropped things that looked like thick wires off the roof: red and yellow and green.

The cop opened the driver’s side door and hopped in.

“What are those people doing on top of the house?” Alvin asked.

The cop looked back at the house. “Looks like they’re wirin’ it up.”

“Wiring it up? Why?” “I don’t know. Maybe it’s scheduled.”

“Scheduled?”

“For detonation. They’ve been doin’ it to a lot of the houses in the area. Looks like they’re just gettin’ started. Probably has three days, tops.” Fuckpants fired up the ignition. Led Zeppelin blasted out of the speakers. The cop pulled away from the curb and proceeded to sing along with the song, mimicking Robert Plant’s high-pitched voice. Alvin leaned over and placed his forehead against the cool glass as they pulled out onto Payne and made a right, going toward downtown.