I'm going to write a story and you're going to read it

The empty squad car was parked on a quiet street. When the police officers who occupied that squad car failed to return to the police station for their shift turnover, their relief went out in search of them. It was parked in front of a blue house. They went and knocked on the door of the blue house, but no one answered. Not even when they shouted that they were the police. They went and tried all the other houses on the street in succession, and in succession, received no useful information. No one had seen or heard anything.

The intuition of the officers immediately made them certain the only place they could have gone was inside that blue house. They phoned the judge who was on duty for a telewarrant that would enable them to enter the blue house. This was denied, due to the fact there was no reason at all to grant a warrant to a house solely because it's door remained shut to their repeated solicitations. The judge was sympathetic to the fact that they wanted to find their co-workers, but would not bend the rules to grant them access.

As if the occupant of the blue house knew what had just occurred, he appeared in a window and smirked at the officers on the street. This was the final straw, and they bent the rules and decided to enter the house. The front door was unlocked. After they entered, they did not re-emerge. Later, more police officers came searching for them and found their squad car empty, parked in front of a blue house, near another empty squad car.

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Then everyone started acting really cute and played sports.

After sports, they got kinda sweaty and went inside. The showers were warm and their bodies were soaked.

'I wanna nap,' said the tired kid.

gayest thing I ever read

joke's on you, i haven't read your story at all.

This is very good. You're good at this. Don't ever lose sight of that.

It's not very good. But you were right, you did write it and I did read it. You were absolutely right, man. Can't believe how right you were. Great job, OP. Great job being right this time.

why would someone do this, go on an anonymous traditional mongolian basket weaving forum, post a stupid comment, delete it, then repost the same thing 2 minutes later?

sadistic (You) denial fetish

That's a cool twist on conventional story structures. Instead of letting me follow a PoV character into the unknown you made me watch a nameless probe squad go in, so I had to wait on their return to learn something. And then I didn't learn anything.

Well you could learn something if I was ever not lazy enough to write the rest or whatever. Letting you know what is in the house would ruin it though.

Yeah, nah, man, I dig it. It's the good kind of dissatisfaction.

Thanks mister.

Draft B:

The police automobile sat unoccupied on a quaint, small-town street in springtime. Another police automobile crept up the street slowly, appraising the situation. This patrol car held Officers Hoser and Dozer. There was no motion besides them on the street, and their car crept to a stop besides the vacant car. Hoser got out of the passenger side and tried the doors of the abandoned car, while Dozer pulled their cruiser around to a nearby parking spot, unfastened his seat-belt, and left the car.

"They're unlocked." Hoser reported aloud to Dozer, who just nodded in response, as he approached. Dozer looked around the street in more detail. The house that the abandoned police car was parked directly in front of was painted light blue and numbered 173. 173 Spruce Street. The lawn of the light blue house had grown out of control, and Dozer observed that it came up to his knees as he walked up to the front door. All the windows of the light blue house were covered with thick curtains, there was no seeing inside. It did not give the impression it was occupied.

Dozer banged on the door, while Hoser hovered nearby, keeping watch. There was no flash of movement on any of the curtains to give them a confirmation of a resident. No footsteps were heard inside. Dozer called out that they were the police, but the house remained silent. So he shook his head and went back down through the tall, scratchy grass to the sidewalk with his partner. They conferred quickly, and decided to check the remaining houses alone to save time. Dozer went to 175, right of the light blue house, and Hoser went across the street to 169, the house that would have a direct view of the abandoned squad car and anything that had transpired.

The time was late afternoon, almost supper. The houses of Spruce Street all had automobiles in their driveways, save for one. The residents were all home from work and happy to answer the queries of Hoser and Dozer, or even take a look around their house once that they were informed that two police officers hadn't returned for shift turnover at the station and their car was parked on their street. However, not a resident had seen a thing. Right to the edges of the street, where sight of the police cruiser was more obscured, everyone said pretty much the same thing. No sirens, no strange noises, no one had even noticed the police car's arrival or seen the missing officers.

write it in iambic pentameter

When they asked the neighbours if 173 Spruce Street was occupied, those nearest the house confirmed that a younger man definitely lived there, but he wasn't generally seen and kept to himself. The occupants of 169 pointed out that newspapers that were delivered never stayed outside for very long, and 171, the house adjacent to 173 on the left, who's(whose?) clean and well maintained lawn bordered the jungle of 173 had an earful for his listener about how rude the boy living at 173 was. He had once offered, very kindly, to mow the lawn for him for free just to get rid of that eyesore, and was refused outright and told never to trespass on the property again.

Dozer was irked, though he didn't show it to those he questioned. The old people in this town had called the cops to report a suspicious man carrying bottles last week, and the address they gave was the bottle recycling depot. Now, two people go missing in broad daylight and they haven't seen a thing? He reunited with Hoser at the police cars, and they looked back at the light blue house. Dozer noticed this time, the grass was disturbed along the path where he had walked up to the doorstoop the first time, making it obvious where he had trod.

"Hoser, was there a trail like that when we first pulled up?" Dozer asked, gesturing at the grass.

"I don't remember seeing anything, but I wasn't looking for one either." Hoser answered.

They went up and hammered furiously on the door of 173 and shouted for the occupant to open up and that they were the police. The door stayed shut. They returned dejectedly to their car, Dozer quickly checking the abandoned car on their way to see if the keys were inside, and they were absent, probably gone wherever the driver went. So he radioed for a tow truck since he couldn't just split up with his partner and drive both cars back on their own.

While they waited, Hoser broke the silence and asked Dozer where he figured they had got to.

"Well, they can't be far, since they didn't take their car. But no one has seen 'em for hours at least. I have a pretty good suspicion of where they got to." Dozer pointedly stared at the light blue house as he spoke.

"So what do we do?" Asked Hoser, glancing quickly at 173 Spruce Street.

"I don't know." Dozer answered exasperatedly.

"We could call and ask for a warrant to search the place." Hoser suggested.

"We could, and I might hafta, but I can pretty well guarantee we ain't going to get one." Dozer replied.

They sat in silence as the tow truck pulled around the corner. A quiet town in summer, it doesn't take long for a tow truck to turn up. Especially for the police. The tow truck driver pulled up beside their window and Dozer rolled down his window to speak to him. He wanted to know where the car he was supposed to tow was, and Dozer just pointed at the other cop car. The truck driver glanced over his shoulder, evidently surprised that is what they wanted taken away.

no

what is the point? is it horror? am I supposed to be scared there's someone killing police when they come in their house?

"What's the matter with her?" He inquired curiously.

"Nothing's wrong with it, just get it out of here." Dozer snapped. The tow truck driver shrugged, rolled up his window, and in short order, the empty car was hoisted up and hauled away. Dozer then turned his cruiser around and parked in the very spot the other cruiser had just vacated, so that he had a clear view of 173 Spruce Street through his windshield.

"So this is what they were doing, huh?" Dozer said to himself.

"Something's moving" Hoser suddenly said.

Alertness snapped Hoser and Dozer's bodies up in their seats as a curtain was drawn back from one of the windows. A young man in a black bathrobe and holding a porcelain mug in one hand appeared, gazing at them directly. He made eye contact with Dozer, and winked. Then the curtain fell back into place. Hoser immediately got out of the car and stalked back towards the door. Dozer wasn't quick enough to tell him to stop, but it didn't really matter one way or another. The kid inside wasn't going to change his mind about answering the door. Dozer watched as Hoser fruitlessly banged on the door and screamed at the occupant, before he moved over to the window and banged on that too.

Hoser was a bit new and hot blooded. Still on probation, he had to be supervised by a more experienced officer like Dozer and couldn't work alone. Dozer himself wasn't exactly a senior cop, but he was a few years past his probationary period. He knew that Hoser was probably getting close to just going in, warrant or not. The question on his mind was if he should allow it or not. They had no real evidence to ever get access to the house, but if Hoser could do something stupid and lure that occupant into doing something stupid himself like attacking the officers, then they'd have plenty of reason to get a look inside that house.

He knew that would be wrong, but inertia was it's own choice. He watched the scenario play out without interference until it was too late to do anything but play along. Hoser went back to the front door and finally tried the doorknob. 173 Spruce Street's door was unlocked and Hoser gave the door a slight push to allow it to swing open. The entrance foyer was dark, with only light from the open doorway showing inside. Hoser was now more tentative, calling into the doorway asking if anyone was home. He was still on the threshold when Dozer exited the cruiser and started approaching. Dozer had not radioed in their intent to enter the house, he wasn't sure yet what story he would have to report and didn't want to impeach himself with inconsistencies. They may have to claim they never entered the house if they didn't find what they were looking for.

Hoser took his first trepid steps into the domicile, and one thing jumped out as very strange to both him and Dozer, who was now just steps behind him, his gun drawn. The first room in the house, a large space that seemed like it should be a living room was empty, but the floor---

The floor was overgrown with grass. Dozer and Hoser and never seen anything like it. There was no way to even tell if there was a real floor beneath the grass, or if the house was somehow simply built with dirt floors like a settler's homestead. The door swung shut behind them.

On Spruce Street, there was an abandoned police car right in front of the house numbered 173.

Dozer and Hoser were not the only officers dispatched in the case of the missing police officers. There were other tasks to attend to. Someone had to inform the wives that their husbands weren't coming home. So that's what Officer Nemo was doing.

He wasn't keen on divulging the fact that they had no idea where her husband was, but he didn't see how he could avoid it while also inquiring if she had seen her husband lately. This wife, Cindy, was her name, was pretty much a dumb slut and he didn't want to put up with her hammy emotions that were guarantee to come soon. Why his colleague married her, he had no idea.

As he was trying his best to put things delicately, his shoulder radio crackled and both Nemo and Cindy heard the dispatcher announce that Officers Dozer and Hoser had gone missing in the area of Spruce Street and requested available officers to investigate. Nemo sighed and said: "Well, I had hoped to break it to you easier, but I'm here to tell you just that. Your husband is one of the missing officers."

"My husband isn't Dozer or Hoser." Cindy replied simply.

"What?" Nemo asked in confusion.

"Your radio just said it was Dozer and Hoser that are missing, my husband is Officer Naples." Cindy said calmly.

Nemo blinked in confusion. He keyed the microphone on his radio and asked the dispatcher to confirm her last transmission. She was right, the dispatcher had said Dozer and Hoser. The implication of this struck Nemo immediately. He apologized and quickly excused himself. There was no point wasting time explaining it to her anymore. He rushed to Spruce Street.

It was busier now, residents were all out of their houses, speaking to questioning officers. Police cars were parked up and down the street, some had not bothered to turn off their flashing lights. Police tape was going up on both ends of the block. Excitement was definitely in the air. Nemo wasn't exactly sure what to do, but he got his car onto the block just before the tape went up and parked it. Luckily for him(and our readers huh), the Police Chief was there and called all the officers in for a briefing huddle shortly after he arrived.

"Officers Dozer and Hoser had been last seen by a tow truck driver at approximately 1800. Residents here report that they had come around making inquiries about 173 Spruce Street. However, those who were watching thought they had departed since they confused their squad car with Officer Naples and Maples, which had been parked in the same spot. We are missing four officers and our prime suspect is whoever lives in 173. I want you all to continue questioning neighbours, watch 173 from all angles, and try find out all you can about the resident there. I am going to speak to the Judge about obtaining a search warrant."

And with that, the police chief departed.

I dunno, fuck eh, I guess the warrant pretty much has to be granted now or else the story goes nowhere. Well, I'll think about it.

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Bros is my story good though

No.