It was a cool morning in the City of Angels. But that was unimportant. I was on special assignment 3000 miles away in sleepy suburban Spencerport. A convincing facade of a town which every morning appeared to harbor the usual smattering of youngsters trotting to school, dutiful fathers trudging to work, and the sweet scent of warm fresh cinnamon bread baked in mom’s kitchen. But boiling beneath that calm exterior was a hotbed of perversion and depravity. A town in which "please" was seldom spoken, and toys were grabbed from sibling’s hands. A town where whining could be heard in the privacy of living rooms which otherwise would have come straight from a Norman Rockwell painting. That’s where I come in. I carry a badge.

 7:05am: My partner and I were working parenthood out of central. The captain had us on undercover surveillance of two juvenile suspects in a table manners violation case that had rocked the community. The suspects were short but crafty. They skirted the edges of the law, wallowing in the gray semantic fringes, which kept us from landing a conviction. They flaunted the law that I held sacred. The law which kept us from eating entrees with the tiny fork, walking through doors before ladies, or changing lanes without signaling. I was disgusted by their presence, but the reality of being a detective in the PD (Parenting Department) was that your days weren’t always filled with sunshine and roses….

We woke the suspects gently so as not to provoke them and began getting them ready for the day. They apparently didn’t notice that we were not their real parents. But then the department’s Special Disguises Squad prides itself on imposter make-up jobs that Jim Phelps would have been jealous of.

7:20am: I descended the stairs to join breakfast already in progress. My partner had prepared a hearty all American repast of freshly thawed Eggos. The groggy grinches were devouring them with their hands. Butter and sugar grins to both ears. And inexplicably, they left crusts. I made a mental note to contact Kellogs to inquire about the existence of Eggo crusts. This might be a clue.

Having consumed their breakfast the suspects ventured to the living room where they glued themselves to a dessert of that left-wing liberal charity television known as PBS. The show was called "Zaboomafoo". I made a mental note to have linguistics translate that title, but my instincts told me it was some thinly veiled subversive pagan trash masquerading as a nature show.

I continued the weekday morning ritual and kissed everyone good-bye as I departed for work. The suspects barely noticed as they sat in sugar intoxicated trances staring at baby animals far too cute to be real.

I requisitioned a 1994 green pick-up from the family motor pool and rolled out of the drive.

7:30am: Unknown to the suspects, I didn’t actually go to work. I was already at work. I carry a badge, but we’ve discussed that already. I made a quick stop at the AM/PM for a hot cuppa joe and circled around to take up a surveillance position 100 yards from the suspect’s home. Rush Limbaugh dished out conservative wisdom from the radio as I sipped the coffee and waited.

8:03am: My partner and the older suspect emerged from the residence and took up position in the driveway. While she stood vigil for the school bus, the delinquent made repeated mock attacks at her while assuming the posture of various prehistoric creatures. I listened in on the conversation from my department issue directional microphone unit. I tried to take notes as the 42 pound boy dispensed 54 pounds of paleontology related facts. This was not natural. No six-year old boy should be sputtering gibberish I can’t spell. Clearly there was illegal activity behind this somewhere. My job… find it.

8:05am: Bus 36 departed with dino-boy to take him to the instructional incarceration facility. He was the state’s problem for the next 6 hours. My partner returned to the residence to pry the younger suspect from the television and get him ready for pre-school.

9:00am: After wrestling the itinerant tyke into some form of footwear, my partner emerged with him in tow. She had already selected the Windstar from the motor pool knowing that she would blend in with most any collection of moms while driving it. Also knowing that it would be easy enough for me to follow her provided I was driving anything more powerful than a moped. They proceeded to school. I followed at a discreet distance, watching for errant behavior through the rear window, while listening in.

The diminutive suspect talked incessantly throughout the short trip. The idle and inane banter filled the air with a stench at once both annoying and compelling. Pointless blather about whether a particular head was a circle or an oval shape; observations about the friction of floors. Who cares? Why does he?

With both juveniles now securely at school, my partner and I returned to headquarters to do some research and paperwork.

11:58am: After consuming a turkey and provolone with mustard on rye – lettuce, tomato, no onions, small bag of Doritos large Diet Pepsi, I proceeded to the forensics lab to get the results of the toy part analysis. The report confirmed our suspicions that Legos, K-Nex, and Tinkertoys were in fact used in combination to construct a single toy which was part inter-galactic weapon and part iguana habitat. I was beginning to get a clearer picture of the sinister minds I was dealing with. But first, I had to pee.

12:30pm: My partner returned to the preschool to retrieve the little delinquent and proceeded to Tops under the guise of shopping for groceries. While there, the munchkin charmed a banana, two slices of bologna, and a cookie off the unsuspecting store clerks. Not a bustable offense, but an ethically questionable way to cop a lunch.

3:15pm: I arrived in my surveillance position outside the suspects residence just in time to see the budding hoodlum scramble off the school bus. His gangly gait propelling him across the road. His brother peaceably playing inside prepared for the onslaught. But first… PBS.

4:00pm: After a second dose of the Kratt brothers’ subversive animal chatter, the suspects turned off the TV and began assuming various animal "morphs". Siberian tigers battled velociraptors. The tiger morphed to a troodon; the velociraptor responded with a quick shift to an ankylosaur. Arguments ensue over whether the troodon’s teeth could penetrate the ankylosaur’s armor. Whining levels begin to exceed OSHA regulations. In desperation, my partner made repeated suggestions of reading, game playing, or coloring, but the battles ensued.

5:30pm: I reentered the domicile to the complete apathy of all its occupants. Dinner was nearly over, as my partner rushed the meal in an effort to make an early evening PTA meeting. The PTA is in reality a front for the other local domestic law officers in the community. My partner is their leader.

6:00pm: I am alone with the suspects. After appealing to them to pick up their toys and take out the recyclables, I resort to threats. The scofflaws are oblivious.

6:54pm: The delinquents request to "play on the floor", a euphemism for beating up on a parent while protected by the rules of a game. I feigned disinterest, spotting an opportunity for a lesson. No playing until things are picked up.

7:15pm: The suspects have so far failed to pick up a single light saber. They have engaged in six forms of tactical negotiation over how to play on the floor without yielding to my counter-demands.

7:42pm: Informed that they have only 18 minutes left to play on the floor, and that the toy pile is deeper than when they started picking it up, the monsters began flailing at the mess in an effort to convince me they were trying.

7:54pm: The floor had been cleared. Each and every toy had been deposited gently and randomly near the room’s perimeter. Success on a technicality. The boys attacked.

8:07pm: After enduring 13 minutes of abuse from the riff-raff, I informed them that it was time to retire for the evening. Grasping each one by an appendage, I hauled them upstairs. I had the evidence I needed. It was time to call it a night.

Epilogue:

The story you have just read is true. The names were unchanged, because no one was innocent.

On December 14, 1999 in the 15^th superior junior municipal courtyard of the city of Spencerport in the county of Monroe, Douglas M. Nichols was arraigned on charges of second degree abuse of cuteness and two counts of aiding and abetting the commission of a felony insubordination. He is currently serving a 20 year to life sentence in the residential penitentiary of Mom. He is eligible for parole in 14 years.

On December 18, 1999 a grand jury bound over Tyler T. Nichols for trial on charges of insensitivity toward others, unbounded creativity, and general disregard for personal hygiene. As he has not yet completed commission of the alleged crimes, a trial date has not been set.