K – Kindergarten Cop

It’s no secret that I am kind of a wuss.  I’m the sort of spaghetti-armed nancy boy who will lock himself in a cupboard for two days rather than answer the door to a man with a face tattoo (although in my defense, it was a tiger tattoo).  In order to survive in this dog-eat-discarded-hotdog world that we find ourselves in, I knew I would have to toughen up.

After watching several Schwarzenegger movies, I figured I would have to be more like the Governor in order to build up my physique.  I would have to assume his role and persona from one of his movies as part of my training.  Predator wasn’t a good starting point since I don’t have a mini gun.  The Terminator would have been decent if I had been made of metal.  Also, the less said about Jingle All The Way, the better.  However, I settled on a film that would fit within my realistic aspirations.  I would infiltrate a school and shout at small children as in Kindergarten Cop.

Seeing as there are no Kindergartens in Britain (we don’t like German words here), I had to fly out to America to start my career as an undercover cop who is inexplicably thrown into a school.  After passing my initial training through graft and hard work, I was finally prepared to become rugged and buff by bullying babies.

This is the face of government

Taking my cue from the movie, I walked into the classroom and began yelling choice phrases at the children, such as “STOP WHINING”, “PUT DA COOKIE DOWN” and “GET TO DA CHOPPER”.  Although this frightened the kids as intended, their teacher didn’t seem particularly impressed.  I flashed my badge, and informed her that class 2C was now under the protective care of detective John Kimble. 

Without a word, the teacher simply left the room and took off down the corridor.  Obviously she knew better than to tussle with a grizzled street cop and decided not to interfere with police business.  The children now belonged to me.

Unsure as to what my next step was, I watched the film again on my iPad while the children sat patiently.  If anyone murmured, I simply screamed “WHO IS YOUR DADDY AND WHAT DOES HE DO?” which was enough to confuse them into silence.  Once the film was completed, I decided that I would have to take these kids through some sort of boot camp.  Perhaps this way, they wouldn’t grow up to be as terrified as me. I marched the kids, at gun point, into the yard to begin their training.

It’s around this time that some of my colleagues from the local police force appeared and began brandishing guns too.  I was pleased to see that my fellow officers wanted to help train the children, so I fired a few rounds of appreciation into the air.  This was a traditional police thank you that I’d learned during my training at Crazy Joe’s Vigilante Cop Academy.

Obviously, my colleagues weren’t as well trained as me.  A bullet tore through my shoulder, forcing me to the floor and made me drop my weapon.  The kids ran around screaming and crying as cops descended on my prone body and carted me away from the scene.  They confiscated my badge, after laughing heartily at it and tearing the cardboard in two.  I guess that means I’m off the force.