I used the term "dangly bits" to refer to male, um, dangly bits, onlist one day. Wolfwalker hadn't heard the term before. Shortly thereafter he posted the following fic and has given permission to The Moo to put it on her "For The Moo" page.



This one is for The Moo. I am still laughing and will admit to using the term at a bar recently . . .



To say the day started out badly would be an understatement.

Ray cut himself a total of seven times while shaving. The *only* blade in the entire house was the one from Frannie's razor and it looked suspiciously like the brand *he* bought. Frannie'd been in *his* room again, messin with his stuff . . . of course, he didn't hesitate to go through her top drawer to find the blade when he was in need of one.

After rinsing the razor and leaving it on the sink, he raced down the stairs. Quick breakfast of toast and orange juice and off he'll go. Wrong. The orange juice carton was empty and a heel was the only thing left. Undaunted, he picked the T.P. from his face and decided on a drive-thru breakfast instead.

Ma had been gone less than a week and Frannie was 'in charge', which translated into 'If ya want something, go out and buy it yourself. What, I look like a slave?'

He was trying to decide if he should eat out again tonight or bring something home. The thought was fleeting since he knew he didn't have to eat alone unless he really wanted to go out. Otherwise, Frannie'd want her fair share plus some of his.

Ray had his key out and ready to go when he rounded the corner of the house. He stopped dead in his tracks.

Someone had written on his car with � he touched it - -bright red -- lipstick? It was lipstick alright. Lipstick, scrawled a message across the side of his beloved car . . . he circled the Riv slowly, ending at the front fender. He squinted at the message inscribed: 'How much dope did the dope dealer deal when the dope dealer did deal dope.'

He knew who had done this and if he could catch those little juvies on the street . . .

He spent a half hour trying to polish it out but the number two red dye had set for a while, blending into the paint, darkening it. The message could still be read. He gave up. He'd missed his chance at a breakfast, and if he didn't hurry, he wouldn't be able to even pour a cup of coffee before his interview with the perverted perp.

Ray stared at the man across from him, clearly not happy. Welsh hadn't told him anything about the case, but it was very apparent what the charges were. The man turned from the one way mirror, hugging his clothes tightly. Elaine carried a cup of coffee to Ray. The grinning man waited until Elaine was looking at him before he pulled his coat open.

Elaine's eyes traveled downward, "What am I suppose to be lookin at?"

The smile faded as the bespeckled man pulled the coat around him tightly. Ray started tapping his pen tip against the table, still watching the still unnamed man.

Welsh yanked the door open. "You 'bout done with him? I've got a good fifteen women wanting to make statements."

Ray stopped tapping, swung his head toward Welsh, "You don't have a nice homicide out there do you? Mass murder?" Welsh didn�t bother replying as the door closed.

"Elaine. How'd I get stuck with this guy?"

"Democracy in action. Welsh decided the last detective to show got the best case."

He'd hoped for an early lunch. By the time the last witness made her statement, Ray felt he'd heard every possible description of a male's dangly parts that had ever been thought of.

According to these women, he was holding public enemy number one instead of an ordinary flasher. Like, none of them had ever seen what the man carried under his
coat.. All fifteen worked the red light district, and everyone of them had seen the inside of the holding cell -- up close and personal so what was the big deal?

At two o'clock things had come to a complete stop. Bill, the Flash, Hobson had been officially booked, processed and the offended ladies were thanked and shown the door. Finally. Lunch. Ray was determined not to let anything stand in his way. If he passed a 1215, he'd just keep going. Let someone else call it in.

For being so late in the day, the parking lot was jammed full of cars. He circled the block, still couldn't find a spot. Okay, drive thru it is, then to the park.

The park wasn't so bad. He found a vacant bench and unpacked his burger. The pigeons cooed, begging pieces of the undercooked, limp fries off of him. He relaxed into it. Eyes moving from a couple making out on a blanket, to kids on the slide, to his car being broken into.

For a second, he didn't move. He was less than fifty feet from it. Some little twerp -- Off he took. He grabbed the boy by one arm and yanked him from the door.

"Let go you pervert." The kid screamed at the top of his lungs.

"This is my car--" Ray yelled, trying to explain to the boy.

"Help, he's tryin ta hurt me!" The boy actually got a tear going.

The boy struggled. Parents looked up. A father handed his toddler to his wife and jogged toward them. Ray reached for his badge at the same time the boy kicked him. He sat down hard, taking the boy with him.

The parent used force in trying to separate Ray's hand from the boy. Ray finally got his badge out. "I'm a Cop!"

The parent backed away, but was still clearly concerned for the boy.

The boy had become concerned himself. He pulled the crowbar he was using on the Riv's window and clipped Ray across the side of his head. Ray yanked, once again sending the boy sprawling to the sidewalk. He snapped a cuff to the squirming ankle, holding the
other end in his hand.

The boy crawled as far as he could go, then appealed to the gathering crowd for help. Ray whipped his phone out, calling for a cruiser.

Elaine put the first aid kit away. "You'll live. He barely broke skin. You're lucky he connected with hair."

"Thank you *kindly*, Elaine."

Elaine just chuckled at his sarcasm. "Next time, I'll just let you bleed. Be nice, Ray."

Huey brought the form to Ray. He read over the boy's statement. "He actually say that?"

Huey nodded. Ray picked it up and read aloud, 'I only carry burglar's tools so I won't wake my folks if I lose my house key?'

Elaine took the report from him. "I'll have to add this to my list along with yours this morning."

She called up her personal file, scrolled down to the end. Huey leaned over. "Oh--that's a good one, Elaine.

That the flasher? 'I said that it's my first offense because I didn't realize you're counting felonies, too.' I like that, Vecchio."

Ray sat at his desk for the remainder of the day. As long as he looked busy, no one was going to bother him. He kept one eye on the clock. Count down finally arrived. Five more minutes and he'd be out the door. Without realizing what he was doing, he started straightening his desk.

Ray pulled into the spot directly in front of Fraser's apartment building, turned the motor off and checked himself in the mirror. The jacket was ruined. He shucked it, tossed it in the backseat along with the left loafer. The other one was in the trunk. The odor from it was leaking into the rest of the car and by morning he'd regret not just throwing the $200.00 pair of loafers in the nearest dumpster. But with his luck, he'd get a call from a passerby about an 'unpleasant smell' and find himself sifting thru the said dumpster. Better to leave it in the trunk for now.

A short while found him opening the door to Fraser's apartment - another crime just waiting to happen - and was greeted with a rush of warm air and wonderful aromas. Fraser, smiling, looked up from the oven and pulled out the freshly baked bread. "I made us dinner for a change. It'll only take a moment to get it all to the table if you want to wash up." Fraser dumped the bread onto the cutting board and carried it along with the covered pot to his small folding table. "So, Ray, how was your day?"

Ray grabbed a towel, turned from the sink and smiled. "Oh, you know. Nothing worth mentioning. And yours, Benny?"

Ray took his seat across from Fraser, helped himself to the pot of stew while Fraser cut slices from the still steaming bread.

"Well Ray, nothing went as planned. The seating arrangements were a disaster. Turnbull . . . "

Ray forked a potato and raised it to his smiling lips. What more could he ask for? This was truly an end to his perfect day.


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