Stop. Or not?

I went for a haircut.  It’s something I never take for granted because it’s one of the major perks of someone my age, still having hair, even if it’s grey.  I took a detour using a few side roads because I didn’t want to be confronted with reckless taxi drivers and spiteful traffic lights that seems to be on a permanent not-green setting every time I approach them.

The haircut went relatively uneventful, except for the fact that my hair was shorter when I left with four months worth of gel stuck on my head.  I avoid open flames when I leave the salon because some hair products are known to be flammable.  And that wouldn’t be funny, or it will, if it happened to someone else.  Besides I had to get back to work and they don’t consider “flame-head” as appropriate office attire.  My company is weird that way.  They also don’t like me drinking at work, so I do it before I get there.

On route to the office there is a stop sign in the middle of a side street where nothing doesn’t even bother going.  I slowed down, checked for oncoming traffic because collisions are never as much fun as people make them out to be, and turned left.

The son of a bi-atch appeared from nowhere and jumped right in front of my car.  I considered driving over him but realised there wouldn’t be a place to hide the body. Especially such a big body…Not to mention the damage to my SUV.

(For those of you who’ve never been pulled over by a cop, the closest way to describe it would be to imagine your nuts retracting into your throat and get stuck there. I also apologize in advance for not having a lady reference.)

I opened my window and tried my best to hide my “Oh shit” face. He informed me, in a very condescending tone, that I neglected to adhere to the stop sign.  I wanted to tell him to piss off and die because the world would be a better place without him, but didn’t. I turned my head, looked back at the t-junction and faked a surprise Meryl Streep would never be able to do.  I told him, I did in fact, stopped. He said I didn’t. I said I did.

He paused for a second and that was all I needed.  I knew his confidence was threatened because my confidence stood up and Ninja kicked his confidence right in the throat.  I actually heard a game narrator shout “K-OOoooooooo!”

I moved in for the kill.  I kept the innocent facade and battered an eye-lid, maybe two. In that moment I would have flashed a boob, but didn’t have any with me at the time.

“I’m sure I did stop officer.  I’m terribly sorry if I didn’t, it’s just been such a traumatic day.” I said in a voice that could melt cheese across the room.

“You didn’t stop”, he mumbled under his breath, taking a fleeting look back at the stop sign. “Can I check your driver’s license?”

“Yes, sure.  Once again officer, I’m really sorry about the misunderstanding but I really do think I stopped.”

He checked the card halfheartedly, handed it back through the window and told me to be more careful in future.

I drove off very carefully and with as much composure I could muster, because I was still trying to get my nuts to return to the place God intended them to be.

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18 thoughts on “Stop. Or not?

  1. Full of valuable life skill advice (minus the balls in throat reference, personally, but I believe I get your gist). I failed miserably at the über confidence defense the one and only time I’ve been pulled over, but that was almost 15 years ago. I’d like to think I’d do better now.

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