Edited by the Sheriff’s Department of [COUNTY WITHHELD].
Names of the officers have been removed as they are pending an investigation.

At 6:30am on Tuesday, November 17th 2009 police officers arrived to the scene of Fat Cobra Video in [CITY WITHHELD]. One crazed and visibily intoxicated Tan Peluski was outside alternating between screaming and crying, but became more coherent the closer they came. The officers noticed that he had something that looked like headphones melted to the sides of his head.

“Somebody owes me a drink, seriously. These fucking headphones are melted to my fucking ears!” crazy old Peluski yelled at them. “I can’t hear shit!” He was waving his arms frantically and stomping around, all while balancing a Jack and Coke near his face at all times which he sipped on anytime his mouth wasn’t busy yelling or breathing. One officer moved behind the animated Peluski, to catch him in case he were to lose his balance, or be tackled.

“Sir, now if you would please calm down. Let’s get this thing straightened out here.” The second officer remained calm, while the first had Peluski flanked but was giving off a friendly vibe. Peluski threw his drink at the officer talking, and then turned to spit in the other officer’s eyes before lunging at him with the razor-sharp claws of a professional wild man.

“Make the music stop!” Claw, claw, slash slash. The officer’s face was quickly littered with tiny incisions that would never heal properly, considering the type of filth and bacteria likely to be found populating freely across the vast surfaces of Peluski’s nail system. “Get the tubas out of my head!” He attacked like a ferret, although his claws looked more like the ones you’d see on a possum. “My ex-wife couldn’t give worse head than this shit! Turn it off!”

Officer number one (or was it number two), finally shook off the Jack and Coke and pulled his taser. Whether he knew what would happen after shooting Peluski with the taser remains to be seen. Fact of the matter is, though, Peluski and officer number two (or one) got tasered together, as they were adjoined by the very conductive claws growing out of his fingers and digging into the other’s face. With the combination of rain and spilled drinks, apparently the ground was wet enough that the taser’s effects boomeranged across to incapacitate the officer that fired it as well.

Both officers were knocked out cold. When they awoke, Peluski was gone. All that was left of the decrepid lunatic was a message carved in the face of officer one (or two). It said: “FOTCHA!”

“There is probably going to be a manhunt,” Commissioner Trout speculated. “Nobody gets away with that in my city, cutting up somebody’s face with filthy fingernails. That shit was infected the moment it happened. I mean, we have to clamp down on that, is all I’m saying. At the same time, though, we don’t have a lot of money in the budget for big city-wide manhunts, so we’ll probably just send a couple of the guys that are close to retirement out to the local bars to see if they can dig up any information on his whereabouts. That’s kind of a long explanation, though, so let’s just stick with ‘manhunt’. There is probably going to be one.” The Commissioner has said nothing since that public address.

The following day, a google search was performed on the word: “FOTCHA!”, and it has thusfar yielded no clue as to what caused Tan Peluski to go stark raving mad. Perhaps it will always be a mystery, or perhaps the city will decide to make it a priority and bring the fugitive in. Clearly the man needs our help, but for now it looks like he will be roaming free, and maybe or not, there will be a couple of old, washed up detectives, getting drunk in bars hot on his trail. What does any of this mean? We have no fucking idea.