The true story of how I wrote the theme song to COPS.

This may seem a little far fetched, but it happened....I was there.*


This story begins in the hazy summer of 1988. I was six years old, and was doing the best I could to survive on the mean streets of Regal Terrace. In order to make ends meet, I had to dabble in petty thievery and minor dealing. My first sales took place behind the Safeway on Centre Street. 90% of my sales were in "pixie dust", which was the street name for generic powdered drink mix.... It was 27 cents at the Safeway, but I could pocket it inside the store it, and was selling it for 19 cents (which doesn't seem like much now, but when you're six years old....). By December of that year, I had broken the #1 rule of dealing : Don't get high off your own supply.... I had developed a nasty taste for the 'dust, and it was affecting my sales. I had gotten sloppy, I was mentioning my sales all over the playground like it was nothing. I had a constant pink moustache. I had hit rock bottom, but felt like I was on top of the world.

...Then it all came crashing down.

It was March of 1989, and I was behind the Safeway, waiting on my next sale, when two older gentlemen came around the corner. Usually, my clients were under 4'10, and smelled like jolly ranchers, but these guys started asking about the product, and at this point, I wasn't going to turn them away. We agreed on a price, and I reached in my pocket to hand over the packets. Just then, I felt the sting of cold, hard steel on my left wrist. Cops. I should have known by their hefty moustaches and blue suits and badges in the first place, but I was so desperate to make a sale that I had forgotten to be careful.
I knew I was caught, but I didn't want to go down easily. I began scissor-kicking like it was going out of style. I fought every attempt to put me in the police cruiser for over two hours, knocking over several brick walls in the process. Eventually, after tear-gassing me eight times, and bringing in both the K-9 squad and the SWAT team, they were able to restrain me.

I was sitting in the back of the car, waiting for the cops to pick up all of the bricks that I had kicked everywhere, I found a pen and paper, and began to write the best song my six-year-old criminal mentality could churn out. I slid the paper out the window, in hopes I would find it in the future.

After months of court proceedings, I was let off easy....Four months in a sugar-addiction recovery program. However, the day that I got out, I was back on the 'dust, and back behind the Safeway, just trying to make a dollar to keep my habit going. I had just completed my third sale of the day, when I noticed a small crumpled piece of paper on the ground. I opened it up, and sure enough, it was the song. Just then, some young men with dreadlocks came into the alley, and asked me if I knew where they could buy a song. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I handed them the paper for $5.00.

About a year later, I turned on the TV, and heard my track....It was part of the Thursday 8PM-11PM power-slot on FOX, followed by Unsolved Mysteries and a double dose of Herman's Head.

This story does not end with me getting rich of the royalties, nor does it end with me getting internationally recognized for my breathtaking songwriting skills.... In fact, I don't know how it ends. Let me tell you, though...I certainly don't use generic drink mix any more...It's Kool-Aid all the time from now on, friends.


*Events may or may not have been fabricated due to extreme boredom at work.