The moment they entered our bar, we knew for sure they were undercover. The combination of mustache and their spotless sneakers gave them away immediately. “Hi officers. What can we do for you?”, the bartender on duty asked while he put on the song ‘Cop Killers’. “Next time you want to infiltrate leave the turd under your nose at home”, another added to the conversation. Although you could read the disappointment from their eyes they denied being cops.
Apparently the Bureau had decided that our fraternity needed to be checked out and these two academy no-know freshmen were sent on a mission to investigate the rumors. To give them some ammo we started on suspicious activities immediately. Humongous joints where created while others started on cutting flour. Some started exchanging large amounts of cash. We even arranged an old school student brawl for them, which for the untrained eye looks like a saloon fight.
They sat there wagging their tails like sniffer dogs. A some point they had gathered enough courage and started to investigate, under the guise of “Just cruising”. We let them be. They even went into the kitchen where no outsider had ever gone before. The moment they walked to the rear Otto had ‘enough’ and intervened. He closed the curtains just before they could look around the corner. Six foot eight with a wing span of seven he blocked their way and added while escorting them outside: “Sorry coppers, but you don’t go there. Time has come for you both to leave the premises now”.
I sometimes wonder what has become of these two. Maybe they’ve helped on writing ‘Undercover for dummies’. Rule number one: Leave the turd at home.
Attached painting
Blind Spot
Acryl on canvas
100cm x 150cm