"I wanna be the good cop this time, Donny," whined Eddie. "You can't. You don't know how to be the good cop. Plus you do the bad guy so good!" replied Flack, impatient to begin their game. Eddie knew that he had a better chance of getting his way if he called Flack by his first name's variation. Flack, however, liked to be called Flack, especially when he was playing Cops with his friends.
As the young boys went about their pre-scripted role-play in the front yard, Flack's father pulled into the driveway in his NYPD squad car. "Aww, cool!" exclaimed Flack and Eddie in unison. Flack Sr. climbed out of his car adjusted his belt with all its heavy equipment, and shot a grin at the boys. He climbed the stairs to the porch and pecked his pretty wife on the cheek. "You're just in time, Donald. I was just draining the spaghetti! Boys, time for dinner!" she called. "But Mommy, I haven't shot the other robbers and caught Eddie yet!" Flack complained. Flack Sr. just shook his head, rolled his eyes, and grinned.
"Daddy, what did you do today?" Flack asked with a bit too much enthusiasm. Laughing, Flack Sr. replied, "Well, son, I was on patrol today. I rescued an old lady's cat from a tree, and I gave a man a speeding ticket. Other than that, I just drove around the precinct." "Oh," Flack sighed, disappointed. "When can I go to work with you, Dad?" His tone changed so quickly it took both of his parents by surprise. "You'll have to wait until I'm on desk duty. It's for your own safety," Flack Sr. said carefully. He didn't want his young son to be exposed to the violence he encountered every day, even though Flack would become a cop eventually. His father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather were all cops. It was in his blood.
Seven Years Later
Flack was now fourteen, and his father had finally let him ride along in his squad car. Flack thought that it was the most boring job of which he'd ever heard. His father pulled up to a bank, and the two Flacks went in. As Flack Sr. was conducting his business with the teller, Flack saw a car squeal to a stop outside the bank. As two masked men carrying large guns ran up the stairs, Flack desperately tried to get his father's attention; Flack Sr. merely gave his son a dirty look. Suddenly gunshots rang out, glass shattered, and people screamed and ducked for cover. Flack Sr. reached for his radio and quietly called for backup, while Flack looked on in terror.
Soon sirens were heard in the distance, and within minutes a squad car rounded the corner, lights blazing. Flack Sr. silently drew his gun, then stood and yelled, "NYPD! Freeze!" At that moment, more cops sprinted through the shattered windows. The robbers realized that they were outnumbered and raised their hands in surrender. Flack was shocked to see that beneath the masks and behind the guns, the robbers were only boys a few years older than he.
Flack was shaken and scared when he went home that night. He still loved police work and he still wanted to wear a badge when he got older, but he wanted to avoid patrol duty at all costs. Suddenly, the solution came to him: he would be a detective. That way he could still be a "cop", but he hopefully wouldn't find himself in danger too often. He was finally satisfied with his plans for the future.