You know the drill: I scan the police blotter columns on newspaper websites and summarize some of the incidents as haiku. An impressionistic snapshot of conflict, tragedy, or low humor in 17 syllables.  Sometimes, 18.

Three of today’s batch of seven come from newspapers on the California coast.  The other seven come from south Florida. It may amuse you to guess which are which.  Exercise your stereotypes.

Somehow I think I’ve posed this challenge before.  On another planet, perhaps. At any rate, enjoy.

…so he pulls over
to ask the cop for help with
this live hand grenade…

Head-on collision.
Neither party foresaw one
on a jogging path.

“Why can’t the neighbors
be more accepting of my
screaming therapy?”

Retail, at 80.
And your co-worker beans you
with a pricing gun.

Their fight was just words.
His much-scratched arms were the work
of her surly cat.

Almost a knife-fight.
But for their teenage son, who
took away their blades.

He, for gambling debts,
sold her jewels but Mom loves him
and won’t press charges.

When all’s said and done, a good half of all crimes stem from poor impulse control, poor judgment, or – the most popular option – both.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.  It wasn’t.

And if you don’t think so, troll America’s crime news as I do. Here’s the latest batch of haiku, taken from the police blotters of cities large and small.  But mainly small. Enjoy.

 

They forced the back door,
but her large pit bull advised
that they not enter.

 

I won’t talk to you,
he told his ex, so she had
harsh words with his car.

 

An exiled husband
loiters near his home until
his wife’s anger cools.

 

He heard girls – screaming!
But what the cops found was a
loud cub scout meeting.

 

They soon found out why
burglars seldom try to steal
a water heater.

 

They played “quick-draw” games
with an unloaded gun that
wasn’t unloaded.

 

A reckless driver –
a nude blonde in a red ‘Stang –
or just plain reckless?

 

“You know you want this!”
he told the women, pointing.
They knew no such thing.