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Ask A Gut-Shot Policeman

Dear Gut-Shot Policeman,

My brother recently moved in with me, claiming that he could no longer afford rent and didn't want to move back in with our parents. I feel torn. Part of me wants to be supportive and cut him some slack, but another part wants to tell him to get lost. After all, he seems to be more interested in hanging out with his friends than in looking for a better-paying job. What do you think I should do?

—Tested In Tempe

Dear Tempe,

Oh, God, I'm dyin' over here! Somebody, get me some help, please. Oh, God, I'm dyin'. The pain! Lou, call for back-up if you can hear me. Unggggh! Tell Nancy I love her. Tell the kids to be brave, and tell them that their daddy loves them very much. The pain, I can't stand it! Oh, please help me. I'm too young to die.

Dear Gut-Shot Policeman,

Here's a real doozy for you: I'm a happily married woman. Yet the other night at a cocktail party, a female acquaintance of mine made a pass at me! I didn't know how to respond, so I acted embarrassed and left the room quickly. We haven't talked since, but I know I am going to see her at a picnic next month. I don't want it to be horribly awkward. What should I do?

—Confused In Cairo

Dear Confused,

Get me to the fuckin' hospital! Ghaaaaaagh! Jesus, I'm losing blood fast. Can't take the pain. Unnnnggghhhh! I'm shot. Real bad. I'm spittin' up blood. My insides are all blasted out. What a fuckin' mess! Please, somebody, my squad car is around the corner. Call for an ambulance. I can't take the pain. Unnnggggghh!

Dear Gut-Shot Policeman,

My 14-year-old has really testing me lately, staying out past curfew, talking on the phone until all hours of the night, and ignoring her homework. I told her that if she didn't shape up, she couldn't go to tennis camp this summer, something she loves dearly. Well, the other day, I finally put my money where my mouth is and told her she couldn't go. She threw a fit, and now I feel like my punishment was too harsh. But if I go back on my promise, she'll never respect my threats. How do I get out of this situation with parental dignity intact?

—Wavering In Winston-Salem

Dear Wavering,

Unnnrrrrrggghh! The pain! I can't take it much longer. My guts are all over the floor. I'm goin' to die, aren't I? Give it to me straight, I can handle the truth. Guuuggggghhhh. I'm losing consciousness. Oh, Jesus, that ambulance is never going to make it in time. I never saw it comin'. Oh, shit, no, please, don't let me die. I can't die, I can't. I got too much ahead of me. I love you, Nancy. I love you, Billy and Ashley. Please don't cry, it's okay. Unggghhhhh. Agggghhh. I'm dyin'.

Sgt. Frank Stempke is a gut-shot policeman whose weekly advice column, Ask A Gut-Shot Policeman, appears in over 250 newspapers nationwide. His new book, I'm Dyin' Over Here, is due out this fall from Random House.

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