John rubbed his hands over his face, eyes shut. He prided himself on being patient, on not letting things get to him. After all, he was grown; he wasn’t some kid who was hot-headed and easily pissed off, or-

“Please stop singing that,” he whined in exasperation, dropping his hands to glare at his partner officer.

They’d gotten a noise complaint a few days back. When they went to investigate, the people singing in their garage made up a nice little song about the cops, and how ‘cute’ they were. Now his partner wouldn’t stop singing it. And he was going crazy.