Somewhere there is a crime happening.

I've met two guys who answered to the name Robocop. One was the brother of a friend, and his nickname seemed to be the result of aggressive nerdiness on my friend's part and unRobocop-like passivity on Robocop's part. The other guy...

When I was in college I auditioned for the UAB (University that Ate Birmingham)'s Summer Childrens' Theatre along with some of my fellow BSC (Boys Scorching Churches) Theatre students. Carolyn, Steven and I all auditioned, along with some UAB students... and this other guy.

He was short, wiry, with a wicked gleaming eyeball and a wicked, leering eyeball. He had barroom bad boy attitude to burn. He was a swaggering sneer. He was kind of homely, but he didn't let that stop him.

He threw himself into the audition with gusto, but he unnerved me and he couldn't act, so I hoped I'd never see him again. After the audition we chatted with him and a buddy he'd had tag along.

Carolyn (to digress a moment) was fixated on Shakespeare's characters in large part because they were so intelligent, yet so subject to overruling passions, just like her. When she met a guy who excited her, all her good sense stepped aside. And so it was this time, as she nervously flirted with... well, I didn't catch his name, but he told us he was a professional killer.

For The Law, mind. When a criminal was too out of control, they would arrange for him to kill the guy. In fact, just that very day he was supposed to be in another city, killing a guy, but he decided to blow it off and audition for childrens' theatre instead. What a wild, devil-may-care existence the USA's authorized assassins must lead!

"You'll totally get cast," Carolyn told him. Perhaps the distinction between Good Acting and Intriguing Storytelling was getting blurry for her.

He mentioned his license to kill. "Hang on, I'll show it to you!"

Dig in wallet...

"I can't believe it, I left it at home. But I do have one!"

"It's true, he does," said his eagerly grinning buddy.

"But here's a card the guys gave to me," The Killer said.

A card with a picture of Robocop, from the movie, on it.

"They call me Robocop because I've had so many parts replaced. So much has gotten blown off. I've been shot and caught in so many explosions... There's a plate in my mouth. Touch it."

To Carolyn, he said this.

"Go on, I won't bite you. Just touch it."

Trembling (with fear? Eros?) Carolyn stuck a finger in this guy's open mouth and confirmed that he had a plate in there.

The guys drove off, and Carolyn spent the rest of the day in a giggle-coma with Stephen, her gay friend, whose job it was to calm her down after excessive hot-guy exposure.

Robocop didn't get cast, but Carolyn, Steven and I did. I wonder how many women in how many bars have stuck their fingers into that open mouth.