The fat cop looked through a little box, took out a pass with my name on it, and jerked a thumb to the right.

The fat cop tapped his partner's shoulder with one large hand and said, "Let's go."

In the little brick station he sat beside the desk of a fat cop and told his story.

The fat cop pushed a box of tissues across the desk.

I leaned into the passenger's window and stared the fat cop in the eye.

The fat cop seemed to be speaking into his radio.

"She don't look tough to me," a fat cop stated.

He was greeted at the door by a fat uniformed cop with a red sweaty face.

The fat cop waved, his eyes following her as she drove away.

They stood back, watching, as the fat cop escorted the tramp away.