True Story

Sometimes, they turn into aliens.

Sorry that's not mine, I just figured none of you would recognize the joke since there are only thirty of you. Anyway so last Saturday I was driving around, minding my business and cruising through a green light at 40 miles an hour, when I was suddenly interrupted by an F-150 that was also passing through the intersection but from a strange angle.

Don't crash me bro!

As the left rear of my truck was lifted into the air during that brief moment, I thought to myself, that's curious, surely this guy has a good excuse for such buggery. As it turns out, he had a great excuse; he was shit-ass drunk.

Shitty. Shittier than Charles Krauthammer's pajama legs. Shittier than Repo Men even.

I took charge of the situation and pulled over so we could exchange information and wait for the police to arrest him. He thusly hauled ass and got away.

Embarrassed by my own naiveté, and also by the forehead-slapping laughing drivers passing me, I decided to take the law into my own hands. I mumbled something about liberals while I slipped on my Rorschach mask (mentally) and drove off into the night (the day) to locate and bring my assailant to justice (find him and immediately call 911).

Police composite sketch of my
attacker, enhanced and tattooed
on my leg for effect

My aptitude for detective work paid off when I finally found him, parked in the driveway of his house about 200 yards down the same street. Heart racing, I watched as he jumped out of his truck, leaving the door open to spill beer cans onto the pavement while he ran inside.

Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I ducked under the dash and called the police.

Two squad cars arrived within minutes, sparing me from having to battle my adversary alone. I let them take the lead, and took a sip of my Diet Mountain Dew as they drew their pistols and stalked up to the front door. I figured I'd let them handle it from this point as I'd done quite enough already.

Gunshots rang out, followed by the screams of a woman, as the bullet-riddled body of a police officer flew through the front window and landed in the grass with a lifeless thud. Without hesitating I reached for my Mack-11 and switched it to full-auto, jumping out of my truck and rolling over the hood in one smooth motion before bounding across the lawn and into the house. Obviously this paragraph is bullshit and for that I'm sorry.

What actually happened was far less dramatic. The cops walked out with the suspect, spoke to him for a few minutes, then put the cuffs on. One cop drove him away while the other one took down my information. As far as the other guy's information, some choice bits include 1. no insurance, 2. no license, and 3. no papers. So yeah, he's probably getting deported.

I felt a pang of guilt thinking about that last part as I drove home. Not because I was responsible for it, but because I was drinking a beer.