|Could you pull over please, sir?|
And those just happened to be the words he chose. And that fucking politeness is so creepy. Anyway, there's traffic whizzing past on either side and he steps into my lane. My lane. And this is a motorway, so everyone's doing 70 miles an hour. So that's just stupid isn't it? Wait. This is a motorway, right?
Shit, shit, shit. I'm not going to be able to stop in time and I'm gonna run him over. He'd probably make a horrible squelching noise. I hate that noise. And it'd be so loud. And ahh! Then what? And think of the mess on the tires and the hours of cleaning that would ensue. Or I guess I could pay for a car wash, or something, but meh, they're all fucking communists out to screw you, those car wash people. Or maybe they're capitalists, I forget. But anyway, if I did squash the policeman it'd be totally fucking
|Could you wind your window down, sir?|
from there on. Shits. I really could do without policeman blood on my tyres, bonnet, and possibly even windscreen. I hate the way they say "sir". So bloody patronising. They know they're a higher life form than us, so they rub it in. Like that time they unearthed the rotting body of my dead cat. Two police officers knocked on my door. And at first I think it's the pizza, so I get up all excited and hungry and then it turns out to be the fucking cops. You can imagine my disappointment at seeing cops instead of tasty cheese and tomatos. They're all solemn, hats off. And then they fucking started offering their condolences. And I'm thinking "Yes! Mum's finally managed to succeed at death and now I'm fucking rich!" and then they go and spoil it by throwing the cat in my face.
Actually throwing it! Can you imagine it? One of the idiots had been holding it behind his back, and then he catches me off guard and throws the dead body straight at me. So there's all like dead cat and blood in my face. And I can't see for cat shit. I just stand there utterly shocked and then the other policeman goes "We found your cat - it's dead".
NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!
Cops are getting fucking smarter every day. I have a feeling that officer was a Captain. So I like untangle the cat from my face and go and dump it in the bin. And I'm all like "cheers, thanks" and shit. And then the Captain goes, "Woah, one second, no way! You're not the Ginger One are you?". I'm not even fucking ginger, for god's sake! And I go like all "sorry but no". And then guess what. Then he takes his bloody truncheon out and fucking smashes me in the face with it and then runs off giggling with my lunch money. My lunch money! I was going to buy something with that, like lunch or something.
And when I perform the autopsy on good, ol' Roger (our cat) - in the family kitchen - I find severe internal bleeding. Obviously this was caused by repeated blows from police truncheons. Bastards.
So here I am. I can see the bureaucratic, son of a bastard and a bitch, clipboard-holding, arse-licking, shit-eating, gay, raping, bastard, shit-eating, pornstar, retarded Nazi police officer waving at me and smiling warmly. Idiot. What's he want me for? He's probably going to ask me to step out of the car and bend over so that he can pull my trousers down and spank the kinky shit out of me. I can see it now.
Or maybe it'll be worse.
It couldn't be? He wouldn't...in public, surely he wouldn't...
He's Not Going To Anally Rape Me With His Clipboard, Is He?!?!
|Please step out of the car, sir, I'm going to have to perform a body orifice search...starting with your tight-looking arse|
Shit, he's totally going to say that. Shit. What do I do?
I could kill him. I could totally just run him over and kill him and expend of his life and render him dead. Just do it. Now! Step on the accelerator. Nope...I'm too weak. I can't do it; I can't kill the Nazi-fucker. Now - smash into him! Do it! Come on! it would be hilarious, apart from anything. He could catch AIDS. Hey, wait, maybe I'd catch AIDS. That would be bad. It's unlikely, though. And it would be worth it. Nope, I can't do it. I'm just going to let him sodomise the shit out of me...with his clipboard. God that looks painful. And splintery. And it's going in my anus. That big inky clipboard. Maybe his truncheon will enter the sexual proceedings? Mmm...wait...no...! Shit, no... SHIT!
I hate office-themed sexual shit going down. It makes me cringe and think of my boss. She's all ugly and fat and has a moustache. Urgh! I seriously need to run my boss over, actually...if I ever get a spare moment. Mind you, though, if I can't run over this Nazi muvvafukka, then how am I going to be able to kill my boss? Maybe I need to hire a contract killer or something. Cause seriously my boss needs to die. It's an open plan office and she's always banging one of the janitors loudly, and in a highly office-themed way. That is some uncool shit, that is. She needs to sort her life out. Anyway. If i'm going to kill my boss, I should start by killing this policeman. I could be go on the run and be like...um...Beethoven. Maybe I should go into classical music, actually? Hmm...dar deee dum darrr deee dum dilly dum dum dum, deeee, da darrr. That stuff's easy as shit. And all the coolness that comes with classical music. I mean just look at Beethoven! He was one badass rocker. Loads of badass shit went down with him around. If Beethoven was going to a party, everyone would go, just to see what crazy shit would occur.
Wait, did he just nod at me? The policeman just nodded at me!! Oh my god... That's bad. Or is it good? No. It means he knows something. Something I don't. Er. No way, he knows about my porn stash...
Not The Porn Stash!
I can see it in his eyes. They've found it, the bastards. They must have searched my apartment when I was out (I was being a good citizen and faithfully trying to lick the tonsils out of a two litre bottle of whisky). Damn them. It must be illegal to have blonde chicks "on file" these days. Maybe you need a license to pack porn? Shits, shit, shit.
Actually...I don't even own porn. Who am I kidding? I'm far too uncool to own porn. Heck, I wouldn't even know what to do with porn. I tried this throughout school... pretending to have porn, that is... and it never fooled anyone but me. Cool, straight people own porn. People like me don't; just admit it! It hasn't really worked for me.
Well at least it's not the porn stash then. I guess that's a good thing.
Wait a minute! Oh my god!
NO WAY! I'M GAY!
My whole life, something's been out of place and now -
How could I not have realised before?
Oh my — huh, wait, I have time for revelations and transporting oneself in and out of closets, later. For the moment I have to concentrate...
The Racist Thingie
Okay, okay, I'm gonna step out of the car. He's waving his hand at me. The little police man person.
Should I accelerate?
Nah, I can't do it. I'll just pull over like a good citizen.
Yes, certainly officer, here are the keys. Yes officer. On one leg, officer? Okay, yes I can recite my alphabet. My Greek alphabet? Er, I can give it a go, officer...always willing to help the nation in anyway I can. Of course, I'd love to help you and the police force. Greek alphabet it is! Backwards? Well, I must admit I'm not exactly a Greek scholar.
Oh god! I know what this is about. It must be to do with the time Eric was trying to teach me chess and I said
|But white's always better than black, isn't it?|
What have I done? It must have been a police sting operation. CATCH ALL THE FUCKING WHITE RACIST BASTARDS! Damn the police state thingy! These are the same fucking policemen who stopped me killing my mum for her beautiful new sports car. Oh dear god, I'm sure I felt him touch my arse. I'm positive. He pinched it!
Omega...uh...Psi...erm, I think...Chi...Phi...Upsilon...er...Tau...
Well I appear to be actually quite good at this whole Greek alphabet thing.
Oh yes, officer, be my guest you can have a look in the car, I'm sure you won't find anything suspicious. Yes, of course, you can close the door.
Well, if you think starting the engine will help you, by all means...start it! Yes, you can...uh...
He drove off! Well he better be back quickly. I don't have all day.