The shoot is over; the Nimrod of
Hill Street sloughs his uniform,
pipe and hat, shakes the starch
from his voice and combs steel
from his hair. He holsters his
sidearm, smiles, and stands down.
Hill Street sloughs his uniform,
pipe and hat, shakes the starch
from his voice and combs steel
from his hair. He holsters his
sidearm, smiles, and stands down.
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