Put down the cheeseburger, nobody gets hurt!

The engine’s roar could be heard a block away, then quickly drowned out by a siren’s wail. Neighbors pay no mind when police go code these days – times are strange. Probably another marriage resorting to fist and nails therapy. But then another patrol car follows. Then another, and another. People step out on their front porches.

This ain’t a domestic issue, this is menace.

“EXIT THE VEHICLE.” The programmed voice came over the SWAT megaphone. A boom, followed by yelling. The straights are scared stiff. The faint smell of chemical repellent wafts across the backyard BBQs and pool parties. Silence. Threat neutralized. Normalcy returns.

The 11 p.m. news reported that a disgruntled man tossed a flaming trashcan through a gym’s plate glass window. “The arresting officer reported,” the plastic faced news caster read from the prompter, “that the unidentified perpetrator, before being tased and maced by SWAT, had become agitated with gym staff for not providing him access to a treadmill that would, in his words, ‘out run a bad diet.’ Now to Janet for our weather.”

“Thank you Ron. I guess he could not, [add air quotes Janet] “Out run a bad case of whoop ass,” Ron.” [Janet to wink toward camera for added affect.]