Whats the Charge Officer?

The night was young but i was already weary. Long drives and excessive consumption from the prior few days had sapped some of my reserves of energy. However my resolve was strong. Mr. Nuevo was awaiting my arrival and I couldn't let him down.
Arriving in Minneapolis, i found it blustery and moist, a condition that is fairly common for the spring in Minnesota. After consuming a few beers and a few cigs on my front porch, we decided to amble to azia for some late night happy hour. Mr. Pants was barred from attending on the grounds that he had to work in the morning and had done terrible (and wonderful) things to himself a few nights prior. Nuevo and I sauntered through the bluster for 4 blocks and deposited ourselves in the soft and warm glow at the bar.
The evening was progressing normally. Various exotic beverages were being thrust into our hands, consumed, discussed and then replaced w/new. Cheap and tasty sushi arrived and disappeared in the usual fashion. The old drunk on the stool next to us attempted to be cultured by discussing a Brazilian liquor that he couldn't pronounce. We were not in a position to dissuade him but rather listened politely and then endeavored to ignore him for the remainder of our time.
Around 1.15am, Nuevo went to the bathroom. I was about to order us another round when he appeared at my side, wild eyed and proclaimed that it was, "time to go...now!" I calmly paid the bill while he crouched outside in the rain, occasionally peering around the side of the building. When i was done w/the check, i walked outside and collected him. It seems that he had gotten into a minor altercation in the restroom and was concerned about his status as a free man for the remainder of the weekend. It seemed to me to be a logical reaction and so, crossing the street to the east side of Nicollet, we began the chilly and damp walk home.
About 1/4 of a block from the bar, we passed a bus stop w/a lone swaying drunk in his mid 40s. He looked like a native American but was mumbling to himself in Spanish. As we passed, he tried to form a sentence to impart on us his extreme desire to go wherever we were going. Failing that, he started to repeat the phrase "where going tonight?" and other variations of that theme. We told him that we were going home and that he should get back under the bus shelter. Handing him some change and a lucky, we turned and began to walk away. Initially, it seemed that he had accepted this exchange but we hadn't gone more than 10 steps before he began to lumber and swerve after us, reviving his "where going" mantra. We stopped again by a light pole and he caught up, eyes unfocused w/the remains of the smoke I had given him unlit in his left hand. It appeared that he had tried to consume it immediately after I had handed it to him. It was half soaked and ratty as if it had taken more than 2 chews to realize that it wasn't, in any conventional sense, food.
"You need to go back to yer bus stop, man." Nuevo and I both attempted to impart the wisdom of this to him. He seemed to understand on a fundamental level but something was obviously preventing him from acquiescence. It was as if he had something very important for us to know or something that he needed to accomplish but just couldn't remember what it was. Having been in similar situation myself in the past, albeit not quite as excessively, I took some pity on him. "here" I said. "you need to throw that cig away." "Let me light you one." I reached into my pocket for a fresh lucky and as i did so, the drunk wrapped his arms and legs around the lamp pole and pretended to hump it, complete w/grunts of satisfaction. It seemed at the time that this was his solution to his dilemma. He couldn't remember what he wanted to say, how he wanted to say it or where he wanted to go, but the look on his face told me that he was proud of what he was currently doing and hoped that we found it as humorous as he did.
The problem w/this muddled line of thinking quickly became apparent. I had just finished lighting the cig and handing it to him when i noticed that his demeanor had changed from jovial and slightly confused to highly aroused and full of purpose. It had only taken 2 fake thrusts at the pole to excite him to the point of no return. He was now a man on a mission. That mission was to impregnate that light pole. Nuevo and I tried to stifle our laughter for the rest of the block as his grunts of satisfaction faded into the distance. As we rounded the corner of Nicollet, a squad car turned and headed towards the man on a mission. I regret not turning and watching what im sure was an interesting confrontation.

"Whats the charge officer?"

"Impregnating city property..."