Posts
I suck down the last remnants of a half smoked cigarette; it tastes like an ashtray made out of elephant ass. I gag as the blue smoke hits my inflamed tonsils. Feeling the rotten stench of bile start to climb up out of my stomach I turn and walk away from my coworkers. I’m stuck at my job for another twenty minutes then I’m home for ten hours. Sleep. Sex. Pot. Booze. My list is simple and precise. I briefly think about what kind of porn I should watch when I get home, BBW or Hairy vintage cunts? Tough choice.
I turn in my walkie talkie. Give a brief wave to my boss who glances up with drunk red eyes; he has been drinking whiskey for the last thirteen hours. Someone will have to drive him home. Not me. I’m out bitches. Peace.
I settle into the soft and comforting interior of my car, Trixie. My lovable six speed stripper slut. I hit the gas and tear up the road. Toyko drift baby. Get some. I blast the radio as I down shift and speed through a turn in the road. I’m going home. Freedom. Ten hours of blissful, stress free, childish debauchery, Life is good. I can’t wait to do nothing. I can’t what for some goddamn peace and quiet. And BBW porn.
Whoop whoop.
The brilliance of red and blue flashing lights stops me in my tracks.
Fuck.
I turn onto a dirt side road. Quell those shaking hands and that trembling heart. Protect and serve. I watch with mild curiosity as an attractive female officer saunters up to the drivers’ side window of my car. You’re so screwed. I have a quick decision to make. To flirt or not to flirt. That is the real question assholes.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” she asks not bothering with a hello or a good afternoon. How rude.
“No ma’am, was I speeding?” I already know that I was but here’s to hoping.
“You have expired tags.” I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Yeah, I did know that. I’m super sorry. I just have not had the money to pay for them yet. But I’m working on it, I promise.” This is actually true. I really didn’t have the money to pay for it and I was saving a penny there and a dime here in order to get myself some registration tags. You should have stolen them. I watch, as she looks me up and down; I can see her thoughts. Brand new car. White boy. Malibu hills. Yeah you don’t have the money to pay for it. sure.
“I’m going to write you a fix it ticket. Get your registration taken care of and this ticket won’t go on your record. Have a good day.”
What a D in the A. I scowl as she drives past me, still wondering if I should have asked for her number or something. I feel used. Fuck it. I got vintage porn at home. Hit the road. Heading south to SmogTown.
Six months later. I’m working on a new reality show. 12 hours of stocking coolers, taking out trash, driving mini vans, smoking cigarettes, and flirting with the crafty girls. I have my one good eye on a cutie from Ohio and my bad eye on a larger girl from Wisconsin. They both have their merits and I am persistent in my pursuit. Neither one is interested. I’m in the process of telling Ohio that her scandalous and completely inappropriate work attire is cute.
“Bapu. Robot.” I hear my name over the walkie talkie accompanied by the command to “robot.” Without breaking stride or lapsing in conversation I start doing the robot dance. Arms at ninety degrees. Head on a swivel. Pop and lock. Ohio looks at me like I am out of my fucking mind. You are. I continue with my bad white boy version of the robot dance style. She turns and walks away.
There is a burst of hysterical laughing above me. Look up. My three bosses are leaning out of a window giggling to high heaven. Gaylord Fucker. This is the best part of their day.
“What? You never seen a white boy do the robot?” I yell up at them, smiling.
“I’ve never seen anyone do the robot like that.” One boss jeers.
“The ladies seem to go for it too.” Another boss joins in.
“You wish you had these sweet moves.” I yell back as I moon walk away. God this shit is embarrassing. Yeah it’s really bad.
My shift ends and I feel like death wrapped up in a purple picnic basket. Dead and gay. I crawl into Trixie and let her gears take me home. Downshift. Hit the gas. Accelerate through the turn. Feel the rush. Me and my hipster mustache are gonna ride this train all the way back to Dixie land. Baby.
Whoop. Whoop.
Fuck.
I pull over on a dirt road. Kill the engine. Kill the stereo. Fuck me.
I watch in horror as a female cop strolls my way. The same one? She grins when she sees me. Gulp.
“Was I speeding?” I ask, my voice shaking a little.
“Nope your license is suspended.” She says with such a casual attitude I almost relax.
“Really? I had no idea. Do you know why?”
“I gave you a fix it ticket a couple of months ago and you didn’t get it fixed.”
“But I did get it fixed,” I cry, “didn’t you see my license plate? Brand new tags.”
“Yeah you did fix that, but you failed to show up in court and get the fix it ticket taken care of.” She seems disappointed in me; like a momma swain scorning her ducklings.
“I was supposed to go to court for a fix it ticket?” Duh.
“Yes. Didn’t you read the ticket I gave you?”
Blink. Gulp. Blink.
I’m pretty sure I put the ticket in a drawer and never looked at it again.
“Um so what does this mean? Are you gonna give me another ticket?” Jesus I can’t afford this shit.
“Nope I have to take you in, please step out of the vehicle. Do you have any weapons I should know about?” Just an AK in the trunk.
“Wait! Your taking me in… like arresting me?” My head is swimming in circles.
“Yes I am. Now get out of the car.” I black out from fear.
I come to in the back seat of the squad car. My arms tucked neatly behind my back; the cuffs digging into the tight skin on my wrists. Kinda feels sexy. I wipe the drool off my chin and decide to man up.
“So what kind of music do you like?” I ask. She looks startled. Pause. Wait.
“I like just about everything, some country, some rock, a lot of chart toppers, actually.” Such a typical girl answer.
“Have you heard of the XX?” I have no idea what I’m doing but at this point my dick is doing the talking.
“You know, I have heard of them, they are pretty awesome.” Score.
“Oh yeah? Would you like to go see them? They’re playing at the Launch Pad on Sunset. I got tickets.” I can tell by the look on her face that this isn’t a good idea.
“You know it’s a federal offense to try and bribe a police officer.” Her nose has a very serious look about it. I wonder if that’s a common occurrence for her facial structure.
“No. I mean, would you like to go see The XX with me, not like as a bribe or anything.” Jesus. Even JFK thinks your crazy, Bapu. Wait for it. She laughs.
“Are you asking me out?”
“Yes.”
“You realize I’m your arresting officer and I am taking you to jail right?” I fight the urge to black out again. Black spots. Blurry vision. Breathe.
“Yes I am very aware of that fact but I won’t be in prison on Friday so what do you say?” I’m stretching the limits. She giggles like a schoolgirl. Covers her mouth. Hot.
“Man you are a trip.” I black out.
I’m sitting on a wooden chair in the headquarters of the Malibu police station. It smells like lent and bad coffee. I test the air for donuts but come up short. This is Malibu dude. They are probably all fucking vegans. I look up and spot my “arresting” officer walking toward me. Her nose is serious. Shit.
“Come with me.”
I follow her like a sad little puppy. She takes my hand in hers. My heart beats. I’m sweating. Is she really holding my hand? We haven’t even kissed yet. I wonder what she smells like after sex. Mmm police sex. So sexy. I snap out of my wildly inappropriate daydream as she places my hand on a scanner. Fucking fingerprints.
Next up they take my picture. My arresting police officer stands just to the right of the camera. I can’t help but stare at her as they take my mug shot. They make me take it again. I guess you have to look right at the lens. Who knew?
Next she leads me down a long white hallway, concrete walls, red floors. Kind of reminds me of my middle school. Some prisons never change. A gate opens. Fuck me. She is putting me in general population. Has she seen this face? I’m going to get killed and then gang raped. She waves me into the enormous cell and slams the door shut behind me.
“See you later Romeo.” She says as she walks away. Personally I found that remark to be wildly distasteful and incredibly insulting but that’s just me.
I look around. Criminals. All of them. I spot the teardrop tattoos. The scars that look like knife wounds. The gangsters that live for days like today. Days when they get to tear apart some stupid white boy that didn’t pay a fix it ticket. I’m about to get fucked. Proper. I realize that I only have one chance at surviving this terrible ordeal. Time to be a badass motherfucker. I take a deep breath and channel the spirit of Steve McQueen. This is your only hope. Got to go for it. I step into the middle of the cell. All eyes are on me. Criminals. I raise my arms into the air.
“Excuse me everyone, can I have your attention! Yes! Everyone eyes on me! That’s right. Look at me.” I feel the cross hairs of shanks all around me. Take a deep breath.
“Who wants a mustache ride?”
Two days later I get a facebook message from a really cute red head named Ashley. It says simply: Meet me at the Launch Pad for drinks and some XX.
Great. Now I have to get tickets to The XX.
Jailbirds love cops.
