At the police station, Stupid Samuel sat solemnly in front of whom he had assumed was the head honcho. After all, he was the fattest man there. He looked bored or mean — Stupid Samuel wasn't sure which — but either way, the officer's bloodshot eyes suggested he had too much to drink.

"Let's see what we've got here," the captain gestured to the rookie cop standing beside the desk, and the latter handed over a file.

"Looks like you've got a few charges here," the burly man flipped through the papers with thick fingers, occasionally wetting them with his lips.

"Petty theft of under $100, unauthorized extraction of water, possession of an unregistered weapon, misappropriation of municipal wishes, public nuisance, and public indecency. How do you respond to these accusations?"

Stupid Samuel watched the man's mouth, trying to interpret the movement of his fat lips, but he couldn't because the captain talked while eating a donut. The commander mistook his silence for defiance.

"Look, kiddo. We're busy here, so if you say nothing, we'll throw you in a cell," the captain lied. This was more of a threat than anything concrete.

As respectable officers, they had to follow certain procedures, especially when it concerned minors. However, they regularly bypassed these protocols because of laziness. Excuses such as "there's too much paperwork" were common.

But during this particular occasion, the captain wanted to go home early, maybe grab a beer or two, rather than deal with a boy who's not even worth the effort.

"You're in so much trouble!" The rookie cop chimed in; his smile became wider than when Stupid Samuel saw him last.

"Shut up, I'm the one in charge here," the captain reminded, and turned to Stupid Samuel. "I'm assuming you're pleading the fifth, correct?"

Stupid Samuel continued staring at the fat man's mouth, unsure whether to tell him there's chocolate on his moustache.

The captain sighed. "Maybe it's time to call in your guardian."