The Mall Cop

a man comfortably stretched out on the bench watches his little daughter run around, looking out for sketchy folks, while at the same time talking to her--- she giggles, continuing to want him to see what she’s doing--- “look at me, daddy---look!” she cries out happily & the whole while, a mall cop (dressed to the hilt of irrelevant authority complete with his black stetson, a walkie-talkie & a pad of paper to write down his little nothings on) watches the father, as he watches out for his daughter. approaching the father with his back straight, trying to stand as tall as possible, adjusting his belt so that his gut doesn’t pop out, he stops a few feet from him, asking him directly just what he thinks he is doing, letting his daughter run around in such a manner--- the father looks up, not believing what he is hearing--- “just go away…seriously, just go away,” the father told him. the mall cop pulls out his little pad in one hand, holding the walkie-talkie in the other--- “sir, if you do not take control of your daughter, there may be consequences,” the mall cop foolishly continues. the father gets up & approaches the cop, in reality, much taller & larger than he had seemed stretched out on the bench--- while looking down at the mall cop, he doesn’t miss where his daughter is for a second--- “tell me how to take care of my child again---go ahead, i dare you,” demands the father to the mall cop. clearing his throat while simultaneously moving a few steps backwards, the cop folds his little pad back up & hooks his walkie-talkie back to his belt--- “very good sir,” he mutters, does an about-face in the other direction & meanders off.