stereotypical donut-eating cop
Hello, I am Stereotypical Donut-Eating Cop. Sure, I like donuts just as much as the next guy, maybe just a tad bit more. The only difference is I have time to sit and think about eating those delicious ringlets of sweet dough… all day. Being a cop isn't always as glamorous as you might think. Never have I saved a corporate office building from Russian terrorists, stopped a nuclear Armageddon, or shot off my firearm. My day usually consists of giving jaywalkers warnings, and pulling over that asshole that makes a U-turn when there is a clearly marked sign prohibiting it. I don’t care if you “didn't see it”, you’re probably taking your commuter route and pull reckless stunts like that whenever you please, except I was here this time. People can be so inconsiderate of others’ safety sometimes.
There’s a lot of paperwork, a lot of sitting around, and most of all, a lot of stress. I can’t help it, my therapist says eating is my coping mechanism when I’m stressed out. Pair that with my Type 1 diabetes and you get what you see here. People don’t think I notice their grins and chuckles when I walk out of a Krispy Kreme with a dozen Bavarian Creams tucked under my arm, and yes it does hurt. However, I choose not be defined by it, this does not make who I am.
I did go on a real stakeout once with Way Too Into This Stakeout Cop. We were watching a warehouse in an actual shipping yard after a tip we received informing us a shipment of heroin may be coming in through there at some point. I brought three dozen assorted donuts especially for this because I didn’t know what my partner would like. He didn’t like talking very much, and my attempts at sharing my stash were only met with standoffish grunts as he stared through binoculars. Honestly, how can someone not speak and stare through binoculars for 14 hours straight? It turned out our intel was off, but it was still pretty exciting.
Anyway, back to the donuts. It’s more than just an uncontrollable impulse, it’s a tradition passed down from my grandfather to my father, to me. You see, back in the day the only places which were open on late night patrols were donut and coffee shops. So that’s where he would go to stock up on the delectable little treats and bring it back to the boys who were hard at work. It would be the best part of their night of sleep deprivation and endless watch to keep the citizens of the city safe. So mock me if you may, but I carry on the heritage of a brotherhood, to serve, protect, and eat donuts.