Another food-based officer of the peace who is not up to the rigors of his occupation.
Lovestruck, he walks the beat. His mind is a million miles away. He should be keeping an eye out for punks boosting car radios and drug buys going down, but he's thinking about… love.
This hapless public servant is already servant to his heart. Which he is eating. For his valentine's benefit. (Have we been living under an affection-starved rock? Is "eating your heart out" an expression of love as well as envy now?)
Anyway, he's an ambulatory hamburger. Whatever heart he has is from the ground remains of a hundred different cows. We suppose this is really just testament to the desire, the sheer bull-headed drive, that some undead food has. Once killed, they strive to discover ever more absurd ways to sacrifice themselves.
Bonus! They're not suicide food, but these meat-related valentines are no less inappropriate: