Arcata Police Log: Proctologist supervillain casts a trashy destiny across the motelscape

• Friday, November 8 12:55 a.m. A man in Moe-Howard bowl-cut hairdo decided to try out the awesome-futile fad that’s sweeping the drunkoshpere – refusing to leave a business where you’re very much not wanted. The sloshed stooge surrogate squatted by a Heindon Road restaurant’s soda dispenser until government forces arrived to scoop him up, which they did.

10:47 a.m. A man in a multicolored dress yelled at children in the Redwood Park playground.

11:01 a.m. Any need a sneaky stealer may have had for food or cameras was satisfied via an unlocked window on Sierra Way.

12:25 a.m. Parking meter No. 20A is unpracticed in competitive eating contests, so when someone forced three hours worth of coins into it, clogstipation ensued.

3:29 p.m. As a woman sat in her car in an I Street lot, a doorhandle tryer tried her doorhandle, as doorhandle tryers will do. It being unlocked, he tried to get in but was challenged by the driver, who reminded him that it wasn’t his car. At this, he reversed course but didn’t go to any other vehicle – instead, he ambled out of the parking lot altogether, revealing that he didn’t have a car there and vanquishing any benefit of the doubt that it had all been a simple mistake.

5:22 p.m. Who leaves their purse, phone, backpack and video game overnight in a car with a partly open window these days and expects any of it to still be there in the morning? Someone on Sunset Avenue does, or did when they still owned those things.

5:24 p.m. Two women turned up at not-the-worst-or-cheapest Valley West motel, asking about prices. The establishment not being a squalid scumhaven like certain others, the cost of lodging was commensurate with minimal thresholds of human decency. And that was a price they weren’t willing to pay. Upset, the two drove around the parking lot for a time offering to shoot the other guests, then departed southbound toward more accommodating motels with the highest mildew ratings of any commercial lodging facilities within the territorial limits of the United States (naturally excluding tropical possessions).    

• Sunday, November 10 12:21 a.m. Guys were enjoying bro time on an A Street porch when this one dude whips out a blade and waves it at the others, who rapidly chart a course in a less dicey direction.

• Wednesday, November 13 10:30 a.m. Painting over the “25 MPH” stencil on the pavement doesn’t actually change the speed limit.

7:29 p.m. Throwing your arm around a process server and trying to fling the person to the ground doesn’t actually cancel the notice being served.

• Thursday, November 14 7:27 a.m. A man called with a gibberish-rich complaint about garbage behind a Valley West motel’s back staircase, an area he said was “controlled” by the town proctologist, inspiring visions of a hollowed-out volcano teeming with uniformed, clipboard-bearing minions and blinking computers in which diabolical colorectal surgeons wield their trash-casting tractor beam across the motelscape.

10:23 a.m. A white Toyota Prius wearing a saucy black leather bra swerved up onto the sidewalk at 11th and K streets, where it lustily knocked down a Bike Lane sign and then whirred away.

2:15 p.m. A man at a senior living facility said he was the victim of a hacker. The problem wasn’t with his computron; rather, his oxygen tank had been hacked and its supply somehow limited by the cyberfiends. 

• Friday, November 15, 2019 2:16 p.m. A woman at a Northtown motel said she and her boyfriend had dropped acid a few days ago, and rather than simply enjoy the synesthesiac rewiring of his mental switchboard by hearing the colors and seeing the music, he had become violent but somehow managed not to touch or harm her.

2:56 p.m. A woman keeps sneaking into a shed on Mustang Lane, where she amuses herself by lighting candles.

• Sunday, November 17 10:30 a.m. There were only 98 bottles of beer on the wall, and one less bottle of champagne as well after a thirsty chap scuttled out of a California Avenue shop clutching the unpaid-for vessels.

3:57 p.m. In a nostalgic callback to the grow house era of 10 years ago, a home on Spruce Way exudes an eye-watering, nose-tingling green cannabis pong and sees the incessant pitter-patter of stoney feet and vehicles 24/7.

• Tuesday, November 19 8:53 p.m. As a man on Hidden Creek Road changed his clothes, he noticed someone wiping rainwater off his window, presumably to get a better view of the procedure.

• Wednesday, November 20 9:28 p.m. Whether to prove a point, honor a lost bet, subdue fleas, keep warm, press his clothes or simply feel something in our numbingly dystopian era, a man body slammed his very own body into cars at various Valley West burgerterias.

• Friday, November 22 1:18 p.m. A regrettable contretemps erupted when a Spartan Lane resident was paid a call by a neighbor who wanted a reduction in the bass levels rocking his mobile home two doors down. But he didn’t get a neighborly yes for an answer, and thence ensued a titanic, moronic struggle between the two over the front door, and whether or not it would be slammed. The resident claimed his shoulder had been dislocated in the desultory door duel, but declined medical attention.





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