Disclaimer: If I owned them, there would probably be a LOT more stupid things happening, trust me.
"Okay, people!" Cragen yelled as he walked into the squadroom. "In yet another attempt to increase our sensitivity, the Commissioner has decided that our unit is to have a poetry slam. On Wednesday, we will all be gathering in the bullpen to write and share poems of any kind-haiku, freestyle, rhyming, whatever. The topic is yourself. Anyone who wants to be the person who gets to sit out and decide if the poems are of acceptable content and follow the guidelines, please report to my office pronto."
Immediately, most of the men in the room rushed to Cragen's office.
The fateful day came, and everyone was nervous.
"Let's get this over with. Will anyone actually volunteer to go first?" Cragen asked.
"Uh, I will, I guess," Olivia said, looking around and realizing that no one else was going to.
"Okay," Cragen said. "Please stand at the front of the room and read your poem."
"Yo, Liv is my name
SVU is my game
Empathy for the vics
Breaking doors with my kicks
To put my pride on the shelf
I'm afraid of myself
Cuz I don't know my father
And it's a real bother
I'm a bad cop girl
All alone in the world
Except for the 1-6
Some crimes make me sick
When the perp won't twitch
I yell 'bout balls in a blender, but ain't life a bitch?
Friends with Elliot, Jeffries, Fin and Munch
Cragen, Alex, Warner, Casey, the Sex Crimes bunch
There's perps I want to kill
They're not quite run-of-the-mill
Abducting little kids
Sold to the highest bids
Until they can be found
Or buried six feet down
HOLLA!"
Olivia grinned sheepishly and sat down, while the rest of the squad clapped.
"Oh, by the way, you're supposed to be snapping your fingers to cheer. Apparently, it's more poetic," Cragen said.
The group of detectives clicked their fingers together, smiling at how out-of-place they all looked.
"Elliot?" the captain pleaded.
"Fine," he muttered.
"Yo, Elliot's here
And don't you leer
Cuz I can kick ass
And throw you through the glass
In Interrogation
The police station
Is where it's at
You down with that?
The room with beds is the crib
Once a kid broke my rib
But she wasn't mine
Which is just fine
Cuz I've got four
And won't have any more
Cuz my wife left me
But didn't you see
That I am out of time
Cuz I can't think of a rhyme!"
"Snaps for Elliot!" Olivia said. "Who ended up as the judge anyway?"
"I did," Munch said.
"Great," Elliot said. "Looks like you're up, Fin."
"Okay..." the ex-narcotics detective said.
"Yo, he's John Munch
But I had a hunch
That if he made up a rap
It would sound like crap
So I did it for him
I hope it won't bore him
And he'll still be my friend
But this is the end!"
The squad snapped their fingers and clapped.
"I know, I know, I'm not exactly Ice-T," Fin said. "Man, that guy is cool. I only wish I could rap like him."
"Did anyone write a poem that WASN'T a rap?" Cragen asked.
"Well, the group of us wrote a poem together," Olivia said. She, Elliot, Munch, Fin, and Casey all stood up and began to recite a poem from memory.
An SVU Day
People to help
Victims degraded
These heinous crimes
Have always been hated.
Cue Special Victims
A quite motley bunch
Detectives like Elliot
Liv, Fin, and Munch.
Liv comforts the victim
The rest of the crew
Sits in the squadroom
Wondering, "Who?"
"My boyfriend," she gasps
Then tells Fin his name
"He did this to me
He's the one to blame."
There's rape kits to do now
And DNA tests
Is he the guy?
Munch hoped for the best.
Stabler arrested
Perp put up a fight
But, to be silent,
He still had the right.
Casey arraigned
Held in remand
He was a risk
So all flight was banned.
Trial was started
Defense was a bore
Through insanity pleas
The prosecution tore.
Guilty of rape
Jailed fifteen years
But the victim's been forced
To relive her worst fears.
On Cragen's desk
The phone rings once more
By the time he picks up
The squad's at the door.