STORY BEHIND THE POEM POOPED
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Dave Horne a practical joker extraordinaire and now a Forensic Identification Specialist was summoned to a call of a dead body found in a lane in the Downtown Eastside. The first unit on the scene was a training unit with Jana Bradley, who was training a recruit named Ken Fincham. Ken being the brother of a veteran member of the police department is as keen as any rookie and eager to please. Dave while surveying the scene for evidence to give an indication of whether or not this was a death by natural causes, drug overdose or murder, noticed the young rookie. He also noticed lying next to the body and big pile of poop. Seizing the opportunity he went into “teacher” mode, explaining everything he was doing to the young Ken. He kept giving him little things to do and then hit him with the big one. That pile of poop may yield valuable forensic evidence and we will need to get a sample of it for DNA analysis. He went over the detailed procedure with Ken, explaining that it had to be cut precisely in the middle, and the center section lifted out and placed in a sterile evidence container. He did provide Ken with gloves and a small plastic box and a tongue depressor. Ken set about his smelly chore and when he had successfully obtained the “evidence” he went over to where Dave was standing and asked what he should do with it. Dave looked at him and with an evil grin on his face said “throw it in the dumpster there; I don’t want that shit smelling up my van”. At this point Ken knew he had been had.
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A few days later I was the Supervisor on a homicide call and both Dave and Ken were there. While we were waiting for the arrival of the homicide detectives and the coroner, the two related the story of the joke and a new poem was born. Almost a year after my last poem. Marking the end of my longest writers block, ever.
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