“AH, YES...Robertson, isn't it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very good. Have a seat, Robertson.”
“Thank-you, sir.”
“Now...Robertson, tell me a bit about yourself. Why do you want this position?”
“Hmm...I dunno...I guess the dough ain't half-bad. And the navy and the coast guard wouldn't take me on the grounds that I'm a ‘loose cannon’. Also, my father used to beat me and keep me 'n' mum tied up in the bedroom during Christmas. So, y' know, I thought I might be just the man for this sort of job.”
“Excellent, Robertson, excellent. Let me ask you a few more questions. Tell me, what do you think of women?”
“I guess they're good in bed, sir.”
“Better than men, Robertson?”
“Hell, yeah, sir! No one in his right mind likes a goddamned fag!”
“No...I supposed not....”
“Women are better than fags any day—as long as they don't talk too much or go leavin' the house without your permission.”
“Heh heh, yes.... And how about prostitutes, Robertson? How do you feel about those?”
“Cocksucking whores! I'd love to drag every last one of 'em out in a field somewhere, fuck 'em blind with a shovel handle, and then douse 'em with gasoline and burn 'em alive!”
“What an intriguing thought! That would certainly cut down on all that street-level temptation and wasted tax dollars for rehabilitative social programs. And it would no doubt prove quite entertaining for some of you young whipper-snappers!”
“Heh heh....”
“Speaking of illicit sex, I was won—“
“Beg yer pardon, sir—speaking of what...?”
“Illicit sex. You know, the kind that's against the law.”
“Oh....”
“I was wondering how you felt about those young teenage boys and girls out there who have older lovers—boyfriends and girlfriends—in their twenties and thirties and what-have-you.”
“It's damned disgusting, and I think we should crack down!”
“Because of any abuse or exploitation that might be perceived as inherent in some of these relationships...?”
“Hell, no! I just think it's unfair that none of those young girls are attracted to me any longer. If I can't nail 'em, why should some other lucky fucker be given the opportunity?! And besides, I wasn't gettin' laid when I was thirteen, fourteen, so why should those sexy little bastards have any different luck?! What's ‘inherent’...?”
“Never mind that now—tell me what you think of child pornography. If someone were to show you some photos or videotape of, say, some little ten-year old girl getting raped, how would you react?”
“Oh...I suppose I'd tell 'em how sick it made me feel...you know...maybe weep a little and look bewildered.”
“And inside? How would you really feel...?”
“I'd probably feel a little tingle...and kinda warm all over.”
“Good boy. I like a man who can disguise his true feelings.”
“Thank-you, sir.”
“Now...about ethnic minorities...How do you feel about, say, immigrants and people of colour, Robertson...?”
“Hell, I think we should send all those goddamned Muslims and ragheads back to where they came from, stinky bastards. As for the niggers, the quicker those lazy, big-cocked coons blow each other away in their little gangfights, the better!”
“Well put! I think I've heard about enough, Robertson. I do believe you are indeed the man for the job.”
“Thank-you, sir.”
“But there's just one more thing....”
“Yeah...?”
“Would you mind turning your back to me, and then lifting your shirt and dropping your trousers and undershorts...?”
“Uhh?”
“Just turn around and face the other way, and then lift your shirt and jacket and drop your pants and underwear.”
“Okay...if you really want me to....”
“Ahh, yes...that's what I like to see: a nice hairy back and arse.”
“Uh...thank-you, sir...I guess.”
“You are definitely the right man for the job.”
“Well, that's great. Thank-you very much, sir.”
“Your uniform will be ready in a day or two, and you start work on Monday morning. Congratulations, Constable Robertson. Welcome to the Ontario Provincial Police Department.”
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