..and on Wednesdays,we solve crimes.

We have this symbiotic relationship with the tenants of our Housing Authority complexes.

We keep fixing the sprinklers and they,in turn,keep breaking them.

They'll run over them with a lawnmower,or back over them in their cars,..or the resident juvenile delinquent types will just kick them really hard,and retreat to their rooms to smoke weed,and plot the violent overthrow of the Rutherford B. Warsniak Manual Arts and Trade School.

It all works out quite nicely for everyone,as they are able to take out their hostilities and aggression in a largely benign fashion,and The Partner and I are afforded some measure of job security in these troubled economic times.

I have noticed of late,a variation in our routine that seems to fall precisely midweek.

Last Wednesday,we arrived at the Gardella complex to find an unauthorized vehicle parked in the space reserved for an apartment we knew to be vacant.

The Partner gets on the horn to report this infraction to O-Town's finest,and sure enough the car had been reported stolen in our sister city,some 30 miles away.

The police tow truck arrived shortly thereafter,and the hapless victim retrieved his property none the worse for wear.

Today,again at Gardella,(there seems to be a pattern forming here),we pulled in just in time to see two policeman combing the area with their K-9 compatriot,in search of a wanted felon known only as 'Rocky'.

Rocky drives a silver Mustang convertible,and was apparently last seen skulking about the premises,no doubt bent on committing some heinous act of fuckery.

Failing to track down the elusive Rockmeister,the cops bid their leave,(those doughnuts aren't gonna eat themselves,after all),and The Partner assured them that we,(that would be the royal 'we'),would keep an eye out,and ring them up should Rocky decide to make an appearance.

One hour later..

'Rocky,..you incredible moron!

You've returned to the scene of the crime!'

While The Partner is dialing 911,..Rocky's in the driveway gettin' the 411 on the morning's police activity from his lovely assistant.

Rocky beats a hasty retreat toward the freeway,The Partner relays that information to the local constabulary,and asks,..'Do you want us to follow him?'..

..'Have you lost yer friggin' mind??'..I inquire.

'That won't be necessary',they inform him..'We'll take it from here'...

The freeway,at this point,consists of two lanes running North and South,with miles of nothing in both directions.

I can only assume Rocky made it to his cell in time for the noon day meal of baloney sandwiches,and grape Kool-Aid.

Tomorrow is Thursday..

That's the day I sanitize the dumpsters over at Winston Gardens.