“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not at liberty to tell you who filed complaint on you,” the police officer explains to you in a meek and slightly gregarious tone. “Not only is it against our policy, but that sort of thing discourages cooperation with our agency.”
“You know what else discourages cooperation with your agency?” you growl. “Writing people tickets for doing what they want with their pets on their property.”
The cop’s demeanor, once servile, quickly shifts to angry and assertive. “First of all, sir,” he says, pointing an accusing finger directly at the tip of your nose, “reanimated human corpses only count as ‘pets’ in the most liberal usage of the word, and the law is not concerned with those. Second, hanging a sign that says ‘Come On In’ on your gate which holds said brain-hungry zombies may be construed to constitute a man trap. You need to post a warning sign on your gate. But, if you check your attitude, I won’t cite you for that.”
You let out a defeated sigh before apologizing, in the most sincere voice you can muster.
The officer’s austere mood lightens somewhat at your concession. To your surprise, however, he continues scribbling in his citation book.
“Why-“ you stammer. “I thought you said you’d let me off?”
“No, I said I wouldn’t cite you for not having a sign,” he counters. “Look, your neighbors are fed up with your zombies moaning all hours of the night. You need to muzzle them.”
“Well, officer, that kind of defeats the purpose of them as a home defense system.”
“No, they can still grab anyone stupid enough to trespass on your property. They’ve got hands. No biting just means the home defense system is no longer self-replenishing.”
You nod quietly in agreement.
“Besides that, city ordinance says you can only have three zombies on your property. You’ve got five. You’re going to have to make arrangements for the other two.” He holds out the pad to you. “Sign here.”