Pigeon Cop

High above the city I glide looking between the chasms of road sitting between towering buildings when I see my target. A man in a black sweater and red cap, dashing through the crowded sidewalks. My training kicks in and I glide down from high above like my eagle brethren snatching a snake from the grassy plains.

I zig and zag through the crowd of people, my wings out stretched. On my head sits a little cap with a red and blue light spinning around and a siren blares from speakers mounted on my back. I turn on my mic and speak to the criminal.

“Stop there you coo-coo-rok!” I say into the loudspeaker. Heads turn as they hear my voice, and the people begin to mutter. I pay no attention to their chattering, I’ve heard it all before. About how I’m a wast of taxpayers money, a joke, or an abomination of mother nature. I heed none their words and instead I keep chasing my target.

He dashes into a alleyway and I bank like a fighter jet into it.

He doesn’t go far before the alley deadends, he stops in his tracks. An ability that I lack when I’m on the hunt. Instead I try to pull up, but it’s too late and I hit the wall and tumble to the pavement.

“You’re the little pigeon cop?” The criminal says. He’s too stunned to move, in disbelief of the terror I strike upon him, I presume.

I get my barring and stand myself up and waddle up to him. He’s much taller than me, he could crush me in on giant stomp, but I don’t fear, because I have the law on my side.

“You’re under arrest! Coo-rook!” I say into the loud speaker. And the man keels over in laughter. He laughs like so many other crooks before him, like their brain can’t process the seriousness of the situation. A flaw within the human psyche. He buckles over, dropping the bag of money freshly stolen from an ATM a few blocks down when he finally catches his breath.

“You’re just so tiny and adorable,” he says between cackles. “That hat!” He bursts out laughing. “If this is what my taxes are going to then I’m going to have a heyday in my future jobs.”

“I have the power of the law on my side!” I shout.

“Sure, sure,” he says. “Just look at you.”

Behind him two patrol officers walk up and take his hand, restraining him. His doesn’t fight back, a victim to his own hubris , and inconsolable fit of laughter. The officers cuff him when he finally realizes what’s happening.

“Go job Lieutenant Crumb,” one of the officers says. I recognize her from the academy, Officer Penn. Graduated top of the glass.

“I don’t know how you do it,” the other officer says. I don’t recognize him. “But whatever it is, keep it up.”

“You got this?” I ask.

“Got it,” Penn says.

And with that I flutter my wings and take to the sky. The people here might not take me seriously, but I’ve since learned to use that to my advantage.

After writing Long Forgotten Face I needed to lighten this place up with a lighthearted story. The original prompt that sparked this high flying cop’s tale can be found here.

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