Naked Guy is finger painting the walls of a closed pub with his own poop. El Cid and Wight are dispatched when he starts whipping around a chain. Wight tells El Cid, "You know we're going to use force on this."
Hoping to tip the scales, I attach and arrive with them.
Naked Guy is screaming, "Fuck you, you fucking fuckers!" to us and the imaginary people around.
He's only partially naked. His pants are down.
I bark, Get on the ground!
He screams, "Fuck you!"
We will use force against you.
Wight exits with his 40mm Launcher, points to the ground, and says, "Get down on the sidewalk."
Naked Guy sees the launcher, his eyes go big, and he throws himself to the sidewalk.
Wight barks, "Arms out like an airplane."
El Cid and I swoop in and cuff him.
Naked Guy has nothing on him, but a soft ball sized turd is lodged between his cheeks.
El Cid pulls up his pants.
Wight radios for an ambulance for a POH.
As we wait, the man stops screaming at us, but continues his tirade against the "fucking fuckers" only he can see.
Four minutes in, Naked Guy slips hands into the back of his pants. His hands are shaped like scoops. I put my foot on his forearm as El Cid grabs his wrist.
Bring your hands out of pants without poop on them.
He freezes, then says, "Take your foot of my arm."
After your take your hands out your pants without poop on them.
He agrees.
When the ambulance arrives, the crew sedates him and we walk away without a use of force or being sweared with feces.
