Why they don’t give me a badge

As many of you probably know, my sister’s a cop. A highly mature and reasonable police officer. I know she’s mature and reasonable because of the things she doesn’t do. For example:

  • When she’s in her own car and another driver cuts her off, she does not stick a siren on her roof, pull out a gun, and go all road rage on his ass.
  • When a customs guard is grilling her about why she’s been travelling alone in Thailand, she does not mention her occupation until asked.
  • When irritated by a group of drunken teenage boys in the local park, she does not shoot them.

See? These are all things that I would be highly tempted to do. Which is why they don’t give me a gun, a badge, or anything more powerful than a pen with four colours of ink.

The pen IS cool, though. I mean, not as cool as a taser, but still cool.

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