Clarence scrambled down the stairs two at a time. He took a quick look behind to see if he was being followed. He missed a step and tumbled the rest of the way down, and right through the screen door going out to the back deck.
“Aaaaaaaaaah! Dammit ... crappppp ... ouchhhhhh ... ” Clarence screamed as he came to a halt on the decking, curled up in a foetal position. He was hopelessly ensnared in a huge fishing net. Roy lounged against the railing laughing his head off.
"Well look at this. I've caught myself an asshole. Must run a good two hundred pounds," the veteran cop laughed as he leaned against the railing.
A younger cop raced up the deck steps and pulled up short.
“How did you know he'd take the back door, Roy?” he huffed as he caught his breath.
“I blocked the front door with a barcalounger, Bert.”
“When did you have time to that?”
“When you were pounding on the bathroom door where he holed up, just before you shot the lock out.”
“Why didn't you come up to help?”
“Why, and get sprayed in the face with hairspray too? He had to come down sometime.”
“That's really helpful. What if he had shot me?”
“If he'd had a gun he would have shot you through the door. Why else do you think he resorted to hairspray? Did you know that you scream like a little girl?”
“Very funny Roy. We have to get this bottom feeder into the cruiser.