Rooftop patrol last night with my friend Trap.  Trap, he's super strong.  People can beat him up and he just gets better.  It hurts him, sometimes.  But most of the time it doesn't.  Don't get any ideas.  He's a married man and a new father. 

And gorgeous.  Hispanic.  Long dark hair.  Great physique.  Geeky sense of humor.  God, I love working with him. 

*sigh*

Hot night, last night, kind of humid.  Made me think of Texas.  I hate Texas.  At least Trap was sweating, too.  It's small comforts that get me through the evenings.

I'd heard that the Skunk was back in LA, selling inhalants.  With a name like the Skunk, you gotta know he's a b-level bad guy, and taking him down isn't gonna be a problem.  And normally it wouldn't be.

So Trap and I, we follow him to the warehouse.  It's always a warehouse with guys like Skunk.  No creativity.  Anyway, he's got his crew there, fixing up the inhalants with his special sniffing potions to get all the rich kids in the OC to go wild.  So Trap and I watching all this go down from the rafters, waiting for the right moment to reveal ourselves. 

And then Trap cell phone rings.

I just stared at him and watched his face go red.  We dropped in on the Skunk and his friends and still cleaned them up without any real problems.  But unfortunately we got sprayed.  And I've taken about half-a-dozen bubble baths.

Dammit. 

All because Trap forgot to turn off his cell phone.  Trap's wife was worried about him.  Isn't that sweet? 

So here's to you, Trap!  Nah-nah-nah-nah.    I still love working with you.  Most of the time.  Just please remember to turn off your cell phone next time out! 

Maybe I'm giving poor Trap a hard time.  I'm sure his wife's going to be far more pissed once she gets a whiff of him.