“Can’t we just bust it down?” asked the cop. “Be a hell of a lot easier.”
“I wish, but we’re just removing and waiting for the crime unit. Sergeant’s orders,” replied his partner.
Moments later, the door to Apartment 213 was off its hinges and laying in the hallway.
“Smell that?” the cop asked.
“Christ, how can you not?” said his partner.
The duo entered with handkerchiefs covering their noses. The stench was thick, nauseating.
“It’s coming from over there,” the cop said, motioning to the big blue drum in the corner.
“Go open it,” his partner said.
“You first…”
The Weekday One Hundred 