Mr. Smith: Oh yeah, who told you that?
Smoking Police: Mr. Jones who lives upstairs. He said he can smell it. Is that cigarette smoke I smell, Mr. Smith?
Mr. Smith: No, that's my tobbaco scented incense I burn as part of a religious ceremony.
Smoking Police: Are you sure Mr. Smith? Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?
Mr. Smith: I certainly do mind.
Smoking Police: I can get a warrant Mr. Smith. Don't make this harder than it has to be.
Mr. Smith: Do what you must. You're not coming in.
Smoking Police: OK, Mr. Smith, have it your way. We'll be back.
Mr. Smith: I'm sure you will.
Smoking Police leave, vowing to be back. Mr. Smith lights a smoke and goes back to watching a John Wayne movie.
One week later
Mr. Smith has just extinguished his last smoke for the night, and gone to bed. He checks to make sure his pistol is loaded and in the night stand where he always keeps it when he sleeps, since this is a pretty rough area of LA in which he lives.
In the mean time, two Smoking Police unmarked squad cars roll up the the aprtment building's entrance very quietly. They must have the element of surprise or Mr. Smith may be able to flush the evidence which these dedicated Smoking Police officers know exists in that aprtment.
Smoking Police Seargent: OK, men, we've been through this hundreds of times, you know what to do. Johnson, you cover the fire escape with Adams. Wells and I are going in the front. We go in at 02:00. Good luck!
Wells and the sarge slowly make their way up the stairs and down the hall to Apt. 2G. When they arrive, they quickly check their watches... 01:59:30.
Sarge: OK Wells, ready? I'll kick the door in, you go in as soon as it opens, with me covering you.
Wells: Got it.
The sarge looks again at his watch, 02:00 on the nose. He plants his large foot against the door near the knob and the door quickly gives way. Wells rushes in, the sarge right behind him.
Wells: THIS IS THE POLICE! EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR HANDS IN THE OPEN!!!
The officers finding the living room empty proceed down the hall to the bedroom, where Mr. Smith, awakening to the racket at the door, has reached into his nightstand for his pistol.
Wells kicks open the bedroom door, but before he can make his announcement the 2nd time, Mr. Smith has fired two shots hitting Wells squarely in the chest knocking him back out of the bedroom. His vest has saved his life this time. However, Mr. Smith is not so lucky as the sarge, right behind Wells at the door, empties his 16 round mag of 9mm into Mr. Smith's bed, killing him almost instantly.
Another day in the trenches for the Smoking Police, making life safer, and smell better, for all of America.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.