"You want me to do crowd security at the Pride Parade?" Wojo asked incredulously. "Why me? Why not Dietrich? He likes studying weirdos."
"Wojo," said Barney wearily, "asking that kind of question is exactly why I'm giving you the assignment. You need to recognize people who are different from you as people. Maybe this will give you some practice." He thought for a moment. "Although, maybe it isn't fair to them to send someone who might not protect them as well as he should."
Wojo's face reddened with anger. "Are you saying I won't do my job properly? Barney, you tell me to protect little green men from Mars and I'll protect them! Sheesh. I don't have to like someone to do my job."
Barney rapped a finger on the desk. "Not just do your job. Do it to your fullest."
"Of course, Barn!"
Barney smiled. "I know you will, Wojo. You're a good cop."
There were people wearing G-strings and body paint, people in ornately feathered costumes, people in ordinary business clothes. Some were holding signs, some were singing, others were just walking along, chatting quietly.
There were guys holding hands with guys and gals holding hands with gals. That was ... Wojo’s first impulse was to say that it was sickening, but compared to the drug dealers he had busted the day before--selling to kids--people holding hands seemed pretty harmless.
"Don't they make ya want to throw up?" said someone next to him. Wojo looked at him. He looked normal enough, but his eyes were narrowed with hatred.
A familiar voice said, “You think that’s nauseating? I can tell you’ve never tried lutefisk.”
“Hi, Marty,” said Wojo. He couldn’t help grinning. Marty was wearing a sequined vest in every color of the rainbow and carrying a matching parasol.
The man next to him curled his lip. “You know this weirdo?”
"I'm here to protect people like him from termites like you," Wojo replied coldly. The man's eyes widened and he sidled away.
“Well said, Wojo,” said another familiar voice. Mr. Driscoll, discreetly natty as usual, was beaming at him.
“Just doin’ my job,” said Wojo, embarrassed. Marty patted his shoulder, took Mr. Driscoll’s hand, and pulled him into the parade.
Wojo watched them march away, hand in hand. They didn’t look sickening at all.