I've cut him breaks before.
I've counseled him before.
I've dropped by his house and checked on his status, before.
On this particular night, I had to pull him over again.
And he lied to me.
And I told him I had caught him.
And he lied to me again.
And I told him that I had caught him, and gave him another chance.
And he lied to me again, and threw his friends under the bus.
And I arrested him. Gently.
And I took him the P.D. Carefully.
And I sat him down without cuffs. Unsafely.
And I read him his rights. Dutifully.
And I asked him to write me a statement. Dutifully.
And he threw his friends and family under the bus. Legibly.
And I witnessed his signature to his confession. Dutifully.
And I began the book-in paperwork. Stolidly.
And he began to complain. Childishly.
And I continued to the paperwork, moving on to his PC affidavit. Studiously.
And he continued to complain. Viciously.
And I continued to write his rather lengthy PC affidavit. Doggedly.
And he began to hurl insults. Personally.
And I placed him in handcuffs. Safely.
And he continued to spit personal insults. Vitriolically.
And I called for another officer to join me. Blandly.
And he proceeded to come up with new attacks. Ichorously.
And the other officer arrived. Dutifully.
And the prisoner attacked him. Verbally.
And the officer engaged. Verbally.
And I intervened. Peacefully.
And I calmed the boy down. Reasonably.
And I turned back to my paperwork. Haggardly.
And he began the verbal abuse again. Insistently.
And he made veiled comments about our personal lives. Threateningly.
And I warned him not to say anything that could get him in trouble. Evenly.
And he calmed right down. Temporarily.
And he cast wild aspersions about our character. Blindly.
And we chuckled about the inaccuracy. Wryly.
And I transferred him to the transport officer. Gladly.
And I buckled him into the cruiser. Carefully.
And I wished him good luck. Sincerely.
And I clocked out, went home, and drank a beer. Unhappily.