Ok, now for those of you who don't have a grasp as to where I live... I live in a place where people stop to help other people who've broken down on the side of the road. Killing a duck in the city is a $500 fine, and spitting on the sidewalk is prohibited (and enforced). It's a small town and I suppose it's good for some people but I swear to god it's driving me crazy. Usually the cops leave us alone for the most part, but things happen now and again that I have to get pulled over and somehow, explain myself.
Case in point, when I was driving my old Grand Am. It was red and it had a dent the size of a small child in the side (thanks to someone....). Apparently there'd been a hit and run earlier in the evening and so on my way home from Rae's house -which was a grand total of 10 miles at that point- I got stopped three times. Apparently the hit-and-run was done by a little red car ...and they'd hit a tree trying to get away with their right side. Prime suspect, of course. I had cops chasing me for a week afterward. Now I haven't been stopped in nearly two years now. It's been a good run, all in all and a lot of it has to do with the fact that I'm no longer driving a bright fire-engine red car. Mine is blue now and cops don't seem to want to stop me for some reason. Likeable enough situation for me. That is, until Friday night.
I was coming home from Dan's house late on Friday night...and I wasn't speeding. Repeat, for one of maybe three times in my life, I wasn't speeding. What happens? I get stopped. Big frickin' surprise. Just my luck, right? I'm having a good run of things and WHAM there's the authorities to screw things up. What's even more amazing, though, is that it was a sheriff which is a bit more freakish since it usually takes provocation (like doing a pagan sacrifice to the gods of "kill cops" on the hood of their cars) to get them to pull you over. At any rate, I pull over and wait 'till he gets up to my window to (politely) ask what the hell he thought he was doing, pulling me over. He tried the whole "you've got a tail light out" stunt which I know is total BS since I think I'd know if I had a goddamned light out. Dan would have waved me back into the driveway. Growling, I produce the lisence and proof of insurance that the idiot sheriff wanted (who shall heretofore be called "one bullet Barney"). Well, needless to say all that checked out. No problem. He then proceeds to ask me to get out of the car! I was only going 45 mph!
"Jeezus frickin' christ on a pogostick" I'm thinking to myself "What else does he want, a full-body cavity search?" So I'm out of the car and he pulls out his breathalizer...so I blow into it and I'm blowing negative numbers or something because he makes me do it again "just to make sure." All of a sudden I see something moving there out of the corner of my eye... and I look and it's a frickin' opossum! Now, not only are they just ugly, they're creepy, disease-ridden and ...creepy! Seriously! They look like they're smiling that creepy little smile that the villans' henchmen always smiled in the old b-movies. That's some scary crap right there. Now tell me that's not scary! So what does a cool, level-headed person such as myself do in such a situation? I scream like bigfoot and the swamp thing are coming after me (did I mention I have a great b-movie scream?) and my voice is the only thing that stands between me and certain death.
Needless to say, both Sheriff and Rodent are a bit puzzled at this point. The hairy rat-thing stops and tip its head to one side as I'm clamoring to get into my car... and one-bullet Barney here turns, draws and blows the thing into 8 million and three little pieces. What a way to die. Just minding you own freakin' business, trying to eat roadkill off the side of the road and wham some dickhead blows you into a quivering pile of fur and eyeballs.
At this point, all I can say is..."crap." I didn't want to swear in front of the officer but...wow it needed at least a "damn!" or "....fuck". I was just glad I didn't try and run for it (and leave my car? fat chance...). I think I could have ended up like the little ugly thing. A big grease-spot on the pavement, twitching and wheezing until the sheriff decides to finish me off. I can just imagne the headlines now.
"Local Teen Dies in Freak Opossum Accident.Details are still sketchy, but authorites believe that Officer Fife of the Eaton County Sheriff's Department was making a routine traffic stop Saturday morning between the hours of 1 and 2 am. Apparently, out of the bushes a large, rabid opossom allegedly attacked. The driver of the car, a Jessica Backofen (19), was startled and ran "like a boy chased by sharkie-sharkies." Unfortunately, the misguided teen ran directly into the path of fire and was blowin into "8 million and three little pieces. God, it was a horrible mess, really. We had crews out there 'till 6am trying to get the grease stains up off the pavement" says Sheriff Fife." Also, Sheriff Fife notes that the girl was "not drunk, naw, she weren't doin' drugs neither. That was just a big fuggin' opossum. I'd'a been scared too if'n I'd not been good learned by the department to keep my head cold at times like them."Like I said, I love living in a little town.I'm normally quite amused by such things but this incident for some reason just gives me the most grim hopes for the youth of this fair city. They're already potheads, skaters and wannabe G's (we call them J's). What have they got to aspire to? Not a damned thing....just one bullet Barney and his keystone cops. Wonderful.
