LogFAQs > #886111235

B) Listen to the police scanner in hopes of finding a juicy crime to stop.

The badly damaged Sloan Harbor office building grows smaller as you fly over the city. You can see several cruisers heading towards the direction you just took off from. Even though his marinara stained crotch was a distraction, Meatballs had a point. You weren't taking this hero thing very seriously. You walked into Sloan Harbor basically thinking Katie's problem was a joke. You didn't control your emotions and because of that, people got hurt and will probably lose their jobs. Although you didn't mean for it to happen, you're to blame for their pain and suffering, and that feeling sucks.

You land on top of an apartment building downtown. Your mother used to have an old police scanner that she'd listen to in her armchair for hours on end while she knit, read a book, or did other mom things. There were rarely ever any major crimes that were reported and even if there were, it wasn't like an episode of Cops where you could watch what happens. You could just listen to the patrol officer request another squad car for backup or say that they've apprehended a suspect and will be at the station soon. On most days, all that came through the scanner was the dispatch officer and the squad cars messing around like they had their own radio show. You asked your mother at one point, "Why do you listen to that thing all day when there are never any crimes reported?"
She smiled at you and said, "I listen to it all day because there are no crimes committed. It makes me feel great to live in a place so safe. If the scanner was chirping on and on about murder and gangbang all the time, I don't think I'd use it anymore. That'd be such a bummer to listen to, wouldn't it?"
"Mom, don't say gangbang."

Thanks to your mom, you memorized what channel the police broadcast on. You sit on the ledge of the building, put the tips of your thumb, pointer, and middle finger to your temple, and tune in to the static.
Not long after you tap into the channel, you hear, "We're gonna need more ambulances over here. Several injured, no fatalities so far, but we haven't finished going through the building yet."
The dispatch officer replies, "Any description of the suspect?"
"People here are saying it's some heavyset guy who did all this with a swing of his arms. A couple guys outside said he could fuckin' fly and shit?"
Oh right. You just accidentally committed corporate terrorism like five minutes ago, of course they're talking about you.

You listen to the officers describe you and the destruction you've wrought in greater detail while feeling increasingly guilty. After awhile your hear a door open behind and see a man in a grey t-shirt and flannel pajama pants walk out onto the roof. He gives you a friendly nod as he lights a cigarette. "My wife doesn't know I still smoke," he says. "So I have to come up here a few times a day."
"Believe me," you respond. "She knows."
"Why do you say that?" he asks.
You turn off the scanner in your head. It's all going to be about you for awhile anyways. "The smell's kind of hard to hide. I knew before you even lit that cigarette."
"If she knows, why hasn't she said anything?"
"Well, tell me this. How were you explaining just leaving your apartment for twenty minutes at a time?" you wonder.
"I'd tell her I was going for a walk or to the store or the post office. Something like that," he replies.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.