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When I was but a lad, there was one cop assigned to my neighborhood, a gentleman with the rather unfortunate name of Officer Bacon. Why he decided to go into law enforcement with a name like that, I don't know. Maybe it was just destiny.

The relationship between us neighborhood kids and Officer Bacon was not a warm one. We were always doing stupid things like keying cars, playing mailbox baseball, and setting off firecrackers on people's front porches, and he was always catching us. The bastard. Every time one of us got caught with a case of cheap beer, it was always Officer Bacon who dragged us in front of our parents and made us explain what had happenned, and each time this happenned, our resentment only grew.

One fine summer night, a bunch of us were sitting around a bonfire in the backyard, a bonfire for which we had used superglue as a sort of impromptu lighter fluid. Being the young hellions that we were, we were also shooting off airguns, and the noise may have perhaps caused some sort of disturbance to our neighbors, causing Officer Bacon to be dispatched to the scene.

When he arrived, he came around back, and using his acute detective skills, determined that we were all heavilly armed with rifles. Never mind that he knew most of us by name, and knew that we were a bunch of bored suburban kids and not a burgeoning new militia. Officer Bacon drew his service revolver, and by way of letting us know that he was there, shouted out, "Drop the weapons and put your hands in the air!"

Since we didn't know that anybody was even there, our first impulse was to turn to face the man who was yelling at us. Without dropping the guns. Looking back, it's miracle that he didn't kill any of us. Somehow, however, he didn't shoot in self-defense, and once we saw that it was only Officer Bacon, we dropped the airguns. Very angry at us indeed, he started yelling at us about how illegal all of the things we were doing were. His attention turned to the bonfire, which needless to say we had no permit for.

Here Officer Bacon's fatal miscalculation arose. He decided that, as an officer of the law, it was his duty to put an end to this bonfire then and there. However, when he chose to stamp out the fire, he underestimated that flamability of his uniform trousers, and the adhesive properties of the glue we had used to start the fire. Of course, he could hardly have known about the glue, since none of us told him.

Presently, Officer Bacon's pants were merrily ablaze. We, little shits that we were, did nothing but laugh. Until finally, my friend Cameron, in a moment of pure genius, yelled out, "Stop, drop and roll, Officer Bacon!" The look on his face at that moment was totally priceless.

Whenever Officer Bacon hassled us after that, somebody who had been there would always, always, shout "Stop, drop and roll, Officer Bacon!" He started bothering us a lot less not long after that.

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