Good cop/bad cop... mmmmm. What a choice.

As much as I love the donuts, I have to admit that there's one part of my job I love even more....

and that's cuffing those miscreant boys that think they can bribe me into slipping out of my uniform.

Why, just last week, a would-be gangsta shouldered his way into this innocent officer's hotel room in Detroit. And before I could give him any well-intentioned warnings, he slapped down a envelope and looked at me defiantly.

"Well?" he demanded. "What do you have on under that robe for me?"

"Excuse me, sir," I began, "You may want to wait just a minute before you start asking me questions. There's something about me that you really need to know."

"I don't think so, Miss Hottie," he replied, reaching for the tie of my silky robe. "I want to see what I'm buying."

"Well, all right," I conceded, stepping away from his hands. "If you really want to see what you're getting, I hope you like silver and black."

I dropped the silky panels to the floor.... and watched his face go pale as I was revealed in full police uniform.

"You're under arrest, Mr. Hottie," I sighed. "I tried to warn you."

"Uh, wait a minute," he stammered. "There's been a mistake. I didn't know you were a cop!"

I had to giggle at his weak protestation. "Of course you didn't, sweetie-- but now you know, and now you're going downtown."

His face crumpled and his shoulders sagged in defeat. "Isn't there any way we can work this out? I can't let this happen! I'll be ruined."

I felt a brief moment of pity. He did look sincere... and I had been on a lonely stakeout for almost a week. Maybe instead of going downtown, he could just go down. Yeah, that was an idea.

An hour later, still breathing hard, I realized there's a reason I'll never make Sergent. But then again, sometimes rank is over-rated. Just like making collars.