Pounding Down Suds with Gaga. ***by Frank Hickey*** You civilians can't know about police paranoia. So I never tell my cop partners that I write COPERAS. In my view, COPERAS are unusual cop stories, in operatic style. Music and feelings matter more than facts. "Franky, we seen ya on Poplar Street," a cop on our joint task force accuses me. "You were smiling and toting a sixpack of suds," he continues. "Beer, that is." The state troopers, US Postal inspectors and New York cops tense up.They glare my way, mad-dogging me. "Of course," I say. "Sure. Why not?" "Don't ya know what they got on Poplar Street?" another probes. "Yep," I say. "My boxing gym. I sweat there, buy some beer, ferry it to my grandma, lives on Cranberry Street, around the corner." "You box good?" one asks. "Terrible," I admit. "Trying to lose this gut." "How old is your granny?" the cop asks me. "92." "And she's still pounding down suds?" he pushes. "Brooklyn beer is her favorite," I say."We call her 'Gaga.' Why, what's shaking on Poplar Street?" "That's the headquarters of our NYPD Internal Affairs," the cop says. "The rats. Wearing body tape recorders. And wires. "Bringing us cops up on charges for wearing white socks in uniform," another adds. "Discourtesy. Or for drinking off-duty in the wrong bar." "Or dating a woman with a wiseguy ex- husband," a sergeant says. "Cost me three vacation days." "It's like that new liberal website, 'Bad Cop, No Doughnut,'" a trooper snorts. "Reporting that Pickaway County, Ohio, just fired their dog warden for misconduct. Like, who cares?" "And the rat bosses," another spouts. "Ya sure ya weren't bringing beer to them? And ratting on us dumb cops that ya working with?" "We're gonna check your granny, she lives there," a detective mutters. "She a Hickey?" "Born Buckman," I say. "Jewish?" "Yeah, kinda," I say. "It's confused." "On your mother's side?" someone asks. "Yeah," I answer. "That makes you Jewish," the postal inspector says. "My ex taught me Jewish law. The hard way." "My family's a bit different," I admit "Sounds like it," the detective announces. "Stick to that story, Hickey. Okay?Jewish granny drinking Brooklyn beer near the IAD rathole. But we're gonna keep watching ya". ***Frank Hickey***. If today looks a bit grim and you need to laugh, why not view Frank Hickey Stories on the Medium app or frankhickeystories.blogspot.com? (The question mark is optional.) Frank was a cop. Somehow. He writes the Dancing Max Royster crime novels about the world's only ballroom dancing detective.