From last night's shift...

Traffic stop:
Thought, but not actually said out loud:
Ma'am, flirting with me isn't actually effective at getting out of a citation.
The only reason I was glancing down your camisole was, uh, to check for, uh, weapons. And I'm not generally one to write for a headlight out, anyhow. And when I ask if I've pulled you over before, it's because I really don't remember, and you do actually look faintly familiar-- not as a "Hey baby, you violate here often?" Come-on line. So get over yourself. And put a jacket on, for criminey's sake. It's chilly out.

- - -
Radio traffic jaw dropper:
Another agency is dispatched to a call in which the caller reports that someone has tampered with his alarm system, and now hears someone walking around inside the house, with a light that he sees moving about. No one has access to the house. The caller runs upstairs with his family. "No weapons of any kind in the house." ends the broadcast. In Texas.

So. How's that working out for you, dude?

- - -
Traffic stop:
Ma'am, I notice that you didn't present your Concealed Handgun License, as is required when you are stopped while armed. Oh, you're not packing tonight? Well why not? You went to all the trouble of a background check, hours and hours of classroom instruction, and qualifying with your pistol. Oh, you haven't shot it in a while, and want more proficiency? Well let me ask you: Do you think that you can simply carry it safely? You do? Well why not do that, and make the consideration, when the bad guy is at Bad Breath Distance, whether you might be able to make effective use of your gat which you haven't shot a lot of, lately? We like to see our good citizens able to defend themselves. Uh huh. Well thank you for your courtesy, ma'am, and please slow down.

- - -
Traffic stop:
That's quite a meat smoker you've got back there, sir. I don't think I've ever seen one bigger. I especially like the fold down step that chains up, and the smokestack that looks like it was cannibalized from HMS Queen Mary. Uh, mind the power lines up the way. 48 hams in there, you say? Man. That's a lot of pig. Haw. You're right, that's a good one. Nope, I've never eaten a smoked donut, but I'm sure they make 'em. Listen, it'd be real good if you could get some lights and reflectors and registration and safety chains on this trailer. Well, yes sir, I realize that it's technically a smoker, but the State Of Texas says that if your smoker rolls on wheels behind your pickup and is pulled by your ball hitch, it's also a trailer. Well, actually, they'd call this a "semi-trailer," because the axles...
...you know what? Never mind. Where are you heading with this thing?
Okay. Why don't I just escort you down there, to keep you from getting rear-ended? Right on.
Wagons ho.
Or smokers. Or semi-trailers. Whatever.