Post by sascrotch on Feb 6, 2009 10:40:48 GMT -5
We'll start where any good story should start - not that this is a good story or anything, I just thought I would try to be clever and start with a cliche, just to piss my writing teacher off, but I digress - oh, hell, what was I saying? Fuck.
Anyways, it was a droll Tuesday, until the sudden race to Crawford County Regional to see my uncle's dysfunctional pace maker being all functional and laughing in our faces (at least I assume it was, as a ten year old boy laughs after tying his sister's hair to the bedpost). And so, I went on to my way to my planned activities for the day. Surely all the last minute calling and spur of the moment planning would go off without a hitch.
But I'm not Shirley.
I remember on my way to my first stop - to pick up my cousin - that I still had no idea whee I was supposed to meet Christine. Okay, I knew somewhere in Alma, but that didn't help much. So I call her home phone, hoping her mom would provide some clarification.
One ring. Okay, let her get to the phone...
Two rings. Still okay...
Three rings. Maybe she's in the back room?
Four rings. Or taking a dump?
Five rings. C'mon, pick up bitch!
Six rings. Just a little longer...
Seven r- Fuck it. CLICK
At this point, I am mildly inconvenienced. No big deal, I just decided to hit up her cell.
One ring. I have less patience now.
Two rings. I swear I'll hang up after three..
Three r-"Hello?"
Thank God. I ask if she knows where I'm supposed to meet Christine, but she is as in the dark as I am. Great. I had all these plans, but one key person is missing. What now?
And then, an epiphany! It was still early enough to catch her at school. Sweet. To make a long story short (fail) I picked her up and headed back to my cousin's. Crisis one averted.
After I picked up my cousin we headed on our way to Fort Smith, to meet the last person in our jolly group, though I'm not sure 'jolly' is the right word for it. We were great, jut breezing down the road, talking, laughing, it was GREAT. Well, it was just okay, but nonetheless...
So, we're doing 'okay' going through Mountainburg. You must realize that since I got my first ticket, I have become a much safer driver, no longer going 75 in a 55 and really doing my best not to speed at all. So I thought I was doing fine when I saw 'ol Barry in his copmobile heading our direction. Until I looked down at my speedometer - 45. Wait, isn't this a 35 zone? Uh oh.
I let off the gas and slowly cruised down to 35. Barry starts to turn around at Elm Street. Fuck. Lights come on. FUCK. I pull over, and he pulls in behind me. FUCKITY FUCK FUCK! His radar had got me when I was at 4,5, so I just politely nodded, said my 'yessirs' and awaited my consequence.
And that is how I became the only person to FAIL hard enough to get a ticket in Mountainburg.
Anyways, it was a droll Tuesday, until the sudden race to Crawford County Regional to see my uncle's dysfunctional pace maker being all functional and laughing in our faces (at least I assume it was, as a ten year old boy laughs after tying his sister's hair to the bedpost). And so, I went on to my way to my planned activities for the day. Surely all the last minute calling and spur of the moment planning would go off without a hitch.
But I'm not Shirley.
I remember on my way to my first stop - to pick up my cousin - that I still had no idea whee I was supposed to meet Christine. Okay, I knew somewhere in Alma, but that didn't help much. So I call her home phone, hoping her mom would provide some clarification.
One ring. Okay, let her get to the phone...
Two rings. Still okay...
Three rings. Maybe she's in the back room?
Four rings. Or taking a dump?
Five rings. C'mon, pick up bitch!
Six rings. Just a little longer...
Seven r- Fuck it. CLICK
At this point, I am mildly inconvenienced. No big deal, I just decided to hit up her cell.
One ring. I have less patience now.
Two rings. I swear I'll hang up after three..
Three r-"Hello?"
Thank God. I ask if she knows where I'm supposed to meet Christine, but she is as in the dark as I am. Great. I had all these plans, but one key person is missing. What now?
And then, an epiphany! It was still early enough to catch her at school. Sweet. To make a long story short (fail) I picked her up and headed back to my cousin's. Crisis one averted.
After I picked up my cousin we headed on our way to Fort Smith, to meet the last person in our jolly group, though I'm not sure 'jolly' is the right word for it. We were great, jut breezing down the road, talking, laughing, it was GREAT. Well, it was just okay, but nonetheless...
So, we're doing 'okay' going through Mountainburg. You must realize that since I got my first ticket, I have become a much safer driver, no longer going 75 in a 55 and really doing my best not to speed at all. So I thought I was doing fine when I saw 'ol Barry in his copmobile heading our direction. Until I looked down at my speedometer - 45. Wait, isn't this a 35 zone? Uh oh.
I let off the gas and slowly cruised down to 35. Barry starts to turn around at Elm Street. Fuck. Lights come on. FUCK. I pull over, and he pulls in behind me. FUCKITY FUCK FUCK! His radar had got me when I was at 4,5, so I just politely nodded, said my 'yessirs' and awaited my consequence.
And that is how I became the only person to FAIL hard enough to get a ticket in Mountainburg.
