'Don't talk to me! It was you who was hungry and wanted to shave.' cries Bluebottom. 'Didn't we suffer enough yesterday? Arresting a mother because she called her kids Crystal and Coke. Asking who her suppliers and the producers were? What the hell were you thinking? On Monday you arrested a male for wearing one-legged shorts. HE ONLY HAD ONE LEG! He was wearing two-legged shorts, for Christ's sake! Couldn't you recognise the man's physical condition?'
Pinkbottom looks at Bluebottom. 'Has anyone said you look like the devil? Those bushy eyebrows, horns and long tail. No wonder your uniform doesn't fit right.' As the officers talk a monkey wanders under the yellow tape, jumps into the police car and drives off. The roar of the engine makes Bluebottom's mouth fall open, hit the ground, and swing back to hit Pinkbottom on the nose. Her eyes flare as she wipes blood from her chin. Their radios crackle: it's Det. Sgt. F. Blackbottom.
'You dare to call yourselves crime investigators! Your butts are in your heads. Just like mine. A monkey was seen driving a police car down East Street a few minutes ago at 5 mph. I 'd be obliged if you two monkeys would run along, apprehend the monkey, and take possession of the police car. And forget about commendations, medals, or promotions. I've arranged for both of you to be transferred to Belfast Zoo tomorrow. Permanently! I feel sorry for the poor animals. However, it must be done.'
The radio goes silent. It starts to rain as Bluebottom and Pinkbottom begin their frenzied run towards East Street. Some residents, aroused from their sleep by the collective cry of 'Ooh ooh ooh, ah ah ah', believe a Rave Party is taking place in local playing fields. Others conclude it is the rhythm of the rain, and placidly return to their dreams.
*Reflection: The death of a check-out operator is more meaningful to his, or her, family than the death of a visionary, a genius, a zealot, or a winner of a Nobel Peace Prize.