Windy Jackals (Chicago)

Tale of cop-intuition and Homeland (American) charge for chase of a mystery-maniac for media culture 'image' concerning (incomplete) jitters.

A police tale set in Chicago (USA). Happy Thanksgiving! 

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OFFICER SATAN: Look, I just want time-off to do my junior-hockey coach thing...fair?
POLICE CHIEF: Amlan, we know you're Chicago's best (cop)...and you've earned hobbies-time.

OFFICER SATAN: What's the problem, Chief?
CHIEF: This is a bad-one, Satan...I need that blade-magic (now!).

OFFICER SATAN: Damn (Facebook-like?).

Amlan felt good about life in the Windy-City of incomplete-distances to the strings of sportsmanship 'linked' Earthling securities in the American Homeland (sure). He felt he had earned time to focus on his part-time work as a junior-hockey coach and was praised by his cop-station cohorts and peers...except the Chief. Police Chief Gordon insisted no one was suited for this new case of dark hospitality readings involving a bomb-threat man calling himself the Phantom and placing stranger cases of ominous warnings (only warnings) to varied Chicago eateries (e.g., outdoor-seating bistros by the Wind-City waters).

WAITRESS: Beef and rice for a policeman, Satan.

AMLAN: Thanx, lady.

WAITRESS: You look more pensive than usual (ice-hockey?).

AMLAN: Yeah...we're trying to get city-support for equipment and stuff, lady.

WAITRESS: That's not what's bothering you.

AMLAN: Phantom.

WAITRESS: That weirdo on social media stuff, Satan?

AMLAN: Chicago's insurance (thanx).

There was quite the crowd outside the Windy-City cop-station, with folks insisting threats to eateries and dives in the American Homeland was ill post-9/11 era invasion paranoia for the pedestrian cleats of Hell (sure). However, Amlan felt the urgent need to dismiss and ignore and do his patrols, having taken-on the Phantom-case for the Chief...he now felt guilty being the 'best' man for this bad-media chatter job of terrorism-like shape (damn).

PHANTOM: Quite the Earthling of helmets and guns and sport, Satan.

AMLAN: I'm not the Devil...you are!

PHANTOM: What's this dare to meet you at the abandoned warehouse?

AMLAN: A simple dart-gun game...we post the winner on social media.

PHANTOM: Vigilante-like intuition for contests to smear my wrath, Satan.

AMLAN: Chicken.

PHANTOM: I'll take the contest to heart, but I'll show with a mask on my face.

AMLAN: Random wanderer, eh?
PHANTOM: I doubt you'll find proof I'm the Phantom.

AMLAN: It's all hearsay, alien-man (ha).

PHANTOM: You doubt you'll win?

AMLAN: Selfie-like (no).

Amlan did win, and when he posted his strange anonymous dart-gun contest trumpet on social media, it frustrated the Phantom who made mark of the cop-man as an American musketeer talking idly and with flowery about an urbanization charm for hospitality and superstitions. He surrendered himself and declared his threats, though never applied to actual violence, were drawn to criminal insanity and demanded incarcerated treatment and a media-interview with the musketeer-cop of Chicago (wow).

AMLAN: I'm willing to bet you're an illegal, patient-guy.
PHANTOM: I never hurt anyone...I earned this incarceration cell/treatment, officer!
AMLAN: This interview's quite the cinema expression for the Phantom, like darts?
PHANTOM: I'm pleased and grateful (to/for Chicago), officer.
AMLAN: Good reading...I'm pleased/grateful to return to my hockey-coaching gig, Phantom.
PHANTOM: Well, maybe I am an illegal-immigrant with bad-taste for medicine, but I'm inside now.
AMLAN: Good reading...Chicago's insurance.
PHANTOM: Beware the vanities of cop-mantles; I confess you're not jumpy (farewell).

AMLAN: Thanx for this interview, patient-guy (Facebook-like!).

"Doing well is the result of doing good. That's what capitalism is all about" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). 

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)