By: Aithne
Alright, brace yourselves, because you’re about to dive headfirst into the journalistic equivalent of a garage sale — the stuff that wasn’t quite shiny enough for the front page, the tales that got elbowed out by bigger, shoutier news, or frankly, the stories that were just too darn weird even for this town. It’s a slow news week, so I’m cracking open the crypt of unpublished gems, a veritable smorgasbord of Hathian’s finest (and not-so-finest) moments that never quite made the primetime slot.
Short Stuff
First up, let’s give a round of applause to our recurring star, Officer Oopsie! Fresh off a promotion, it seems, because she was recently spotted off duty flaunting a spiffy new German sportscar. One can only hope this promotion came with a lifetime supply of bubble wrap and a desk job far, far away from anything remotely resembling a firearm. Seriously, those wheels are slick! Makes you wonder just how many citations it took to fund that beauty. Or perhaps she’s started a lucrative side hustle auctioning off gently used ‘evidence’. (Is this the one that’s so short she can’t see over the steering wheel without a booster seat? – Ed)
Monkey Burglar
Then there’s the legend, the myth, the primate perpetrator – the Monkey Burglar! Remember her? The one with a penchant for pilfering valuables and leaving a calling card of banana peels? Well, I snagged a quick, and I mean quick, shot of her grand entrance at the station. Let’s just say her arrest wasn’t exactly a white-glove affair, hence her reclining position on the precinct floor. I barely got the shutter to click before I was forcefully reminded of the well hidden “No Photos!” signs.
Fisting
Ah, nostalgia! Here’s a blurry gem from my early days. I stumbled upon what appeared to be the aftermath of a rather enthusiastic disagreement. Paramedics were doing their best patchwork, HPD was… well, HPD was there, arguably making the whole scene feel like a confused mosh pit. What was the fight about? Who threw the first punch, or potted plant? The world may never know. Early journalistic days, folks — more questions than answers, and usually a lot of bewildered blinking.
Metal Man Misfires
And speaking of our beloved HPD, this next one is a classic. Early on, I happened upon a rather dramatic gathering of officers out front of the station. One was delivering a rousing speech about sweeping the city clean, probably with very large, metaphorical brooms looking suspiciously like assault rifles. Apparently, my journalistic curiosity about this public performance of civic duty was an unwelcome intrusion. Instead of a polite, “Hey, maybe hold off on that story, miss?” I was treated to an all-expenses-paid trip to a solitary confinement chic holding cell until their “operation” concluded. My camera, bless its metallic heart, didn’t survive the encounter intact, but the pictures? Oh, the pictures were safe. Don’t ask how; a good magician never reveals her secrets, and neither does a journalist with a grudge.
Horrors on Repeat
Here’s a snapshot of Hathian’s darker, all-too-familiar wallpaper: a young woman, brutalized and left for her friends to discover, being patched up by paramedics. The who, the why – those are the ghosts that haunt these streets, stories whispered and then mostly forgotten, except by those who lived them and those who inflicted them.
Short Stuff Redux
Oh, look, Officer Oopsie again! This must have been pre-promotion, judging by the slightly dented cruiser. Here she is, with a partner, giving a verbal education to some poor sap who had the audacity to lightly bump her car, setting off its alarm. It was a masterclass in taking things from zero to DEFCON 1 in under sixty seconds. The guy’s lucky he wasn’t shot for possible possession of a potentially weaponized lojack. Say that ten times!
Elf Ears
This one? Chef’s kiss. An off-duty HPD soap opera played out right before my very eyes. We had Officer Spock and his machete-wielding girlfriend – because who doesn’t bring a machete on a casual outing? — ganging up on Officer Cami. The delicious irony? They had no clue Cami was also HPD. Watching these two off-duty “peacekeepers” demonstrate their innate talent for picking fights even when not on the clock was truly… illuminating. Officer Cami nearly lost her larynx in that scene. Just another Tuesday in Hathian. (Remember to ask for Angela if you see him – Ed)
Prohibited
Of course, sometimes the HPD finds themselves on the receiving end of the escalation stick they so gleefully wield. Here we have Officer John Doe being unceremoniously carted away from a local Jazz club. The reasons remain as murky as the club’s lighting, but it’s always a sight to see the shoe on the other foot, isn’t it?
Short Stuff – Ad Nauseum
And just when you thought we were done with her, Officer Oopsie makes another cameo! This time, our favorite law enforcement klutz was waylaid by a bright pink Beetle. This wasn’t just any Beetle, mind you. It was crammed, clown-car style, with an assortment of women who appeared to be auditioning for a remake of ‘The Hangover.‘ At this point, Officer Oopsie should just start a scrapbook titled ‘My Accidental Adventures in Policing.‘
Human Jenga
The crumbling remains of the old hospital, looking all spooky and half-torn down. Mid-arrest of some poor woman, presumably for crimes against fashion or public loitering, suddenly a human-shaped object plummets from an upper floor, executing what could only be described as a poorly-aimed, face-first dive directly onto the arresting officer. Apparently, this aerial acrobat was attempting some kind of dramatic, gravity-assisted intervention. Naturally, more cops arrived, turning the whole scene into a bizarre game of human Jenga, until both the original suspect and her falling backup were safely carted off to contemplate their life choices (and potential concussions) at the station.
Hopping Food?
Finally, my most recent, and perhaps most… flavorful find. A new culinary frontier has opened in Hathian! For those adventurous palates tired of the same old chicken and beef, get ready for swamp-to-table dining: the Nutria Stand! Yes, you read that right. Those enormous, rat-like creatures currently staging a hostile takeover of our wetlands are now a menu item. An enterprising former manager from The Gein (draw your own conclusions there) has decided to turn these aquatic rodents into all sorts of meaty delights. Now, even if the thought of consuming ‘bayou beave‘” makes your stomach do backflips (as it does mine), you should still stop by and have a chat with the proprietor. The man has some surprisingly deep thoughts on religion, philosophy, and the existential angst of the common swamp rat.
So there you have it, a glimpse into the cutting room floor, the land of misfit stories and photographic evidence of Hathian’s relentless weirdness. These are the tales that whisper in the margins, the footnotes of a city that never fully detoxes, and rarely stops to explain itself. They may not have made headlines, but they’re a potent reminder that in journalism, as in life, sometimes the most interesting bits are the ones that seemed to slip right by unnoticed, now lovingly presented for your slightly bewildered amusement.
