|
I am slightly discoloured, so my episodes with the Gestapo are usually not pleasant:
I was driving my spiffy new Cadillac. Some wanker of an oiker notices a dark greaseball behind the wheel creepin just under the limit.
Wooooo ..... Wooooo-woooo (I see the idiot pointing to the side of the road.)
He pulls up behind; his lifem8 or partner does the SAS up one side while big-belly-Bob yells at me from the rear-quarter panel: "I want to see you license and registration, and keep your hands on the wheel!"
Uh, how the fuck does one do that exactly ... don't know about you, but I do not keep my shit there, it is in the glove box or my wallet.
To make a long story short: they assumed I stole the car! The redneck and his darling not once approached me so I could look at em in the eyes (always behind, cocked and ready for action) until it came time for the fat fuck to give a seatbelt ticket (had to remove it, so I could get my ID from my pocket while keeping my hands on the wheel).
Scariest part ... I live in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. Oh, and you should have seen their womb-brooms.
|