It's an old humor short story, surely 60s or older.
An alien police officer complains to his buddy (think ansible, or maybe ordinary letters, I don't remember every detail) that his life isn't utter slurk and globbins (sp?) and what a suckhyphae case he just got. He jailed an amoeba con and his human victim? coworker? (not that clear) but the amoeba is clever and permanently annoys him with new judicial frell. The end of the story is that the human orders some salt. Which is perfectly innocent food for a human, but the amoeba plays her last (suicidal?) card - with salt she can divide. And now the offspring claims they are not responsible for the shenanigans of their elter. Last desperate word of the officer to his buddy:
"Why does these aliens always have such complicated and perverted means of procreation - instead of blowing off their spore foot and be done with it?"
I thought this might be Eric Frank Russell or Robert Sheckley.