Fast Lane
Predator Press
[LOBO]
"Son," says the officer. "I've got you clocked at 240 miles per hour in a 35. Would you care to explain to me why you are driving over 200 miles per hour?"
"This is a medical emergency," I says. "And we need a police escort."
"Really?" He glances over to the passenger side and sees Phil's cat cage, chained and padlocked to the passenger seat.
"Yes," I says. "He's due for kidney testing today because he was eating IAMS a few months ago. We either go to the Pianosa Veterinarian Hospital or he dies. The hospital will sue me, I will sue IAMS, IAMS will sue China, and then China will wipe out Tibet. Now sir, are you prepared to have your fine performance record with The Force blemished with an international incident?"
"How about you just explain to me how you were going 240 miles per hour in a 1990 Plymouth Horizon?"
"It's actually a 2008 Porsche Panamera with custom-fitted removable vintage Plymouth Horizon panels."
"No shit?" says the cop.
"These weather-beaten fenders alone cost me $6,400. Those finely crafted dents in the door and on the hood were meticulously hammered in by hard-working industrious Brazilians. The interior is Corinthian leather, and oiled by genuine imported crushed bald eagles. The rusty discoloration is manufactured in Venice for $1,800 --the dust is about $8 an ounce. The left headlight has all the Blaupunkt stereo components, and the left has a death ray that On Star won't activate until I get a credit card."
I lovingly pat the primer hood, and the rearview mirror falls off.
"Breakaway mirrors increase aerodynamic efficiency," I explain.
"Did you know you're dragging your muffler?"
"That's a safety feature."
"Slows the car down?"
"No, the grinding squeal alerts other drivers to my presence, and the sparks increase my visibility."
"This all seems like a long way to go to keep your car from getting stolen."
"Well, I've always preferred to leave it unlocked and with the keys in it and my wallet sitting on the dashboard next to the loaded pistol," I reflect.
"Loaded pistol?"
"Knocking out those red lights in town has increased my fuel efficiency 8%."
"And it's never been stolen?"
"Oh, sure it has. All the time, in fact. But they always come back once they encounter the anti-theft technology: the Corinthian leather is flaked with hi-tech razor-sharp edges, and the battery doesn't last two hours."
"May I see your license and registration please?"
"I'm sorry officer. I would love to comply, but Phil and I are granted diplomatic immunity by the LOBOnian Consulate." I says.
"The what?"
"The LOBOnian Consulate," I elaborate. "An elite group of dignitaries that manage all affairs of the entire vast country of LOBOnia."
"Who are they?" asks the cop.
"Me an Phil."
[LOBO]
"Son," says the officer. "I've got you clocked at 240 miles per hour in a 35. Would you care to explain to me why you are driving over 200 miles per hour?"
"This is a medical emergency," I says. "And we need a police escort."
"Really?" He glances over to the passenger side and sees Phil's cat cage, chained and padlocked to the passenger seat.
"Yes," I says. "He's due for kidney testing today because he was eating IAMS a few months ago. We either go to the Pianosa Veterinarian Hospital or he dies. The hospital will sue me, I will sue IAMS, IAMS will sue China, and then China will wipe out Tibet. Now sir, are you prepared to have your fine performance record with The Force blemished with an international incident?"
"How about you just explain to me how you were going 240 miles per hour in a 1990 Plymouth Horizon?"
"It's actually a 2008 Porsche Panamera with custom-fitted removable vintage Plymouth Horizon panels."
"No shit?" says the cop.
"These weather-beaten fenders alone cost me $6,400. Those finely crafted dents in the door and on the hood were meticulously hammered in by hard-working industrious Brazilians. The interior is Corinthian leather, and oiled by genuine imported crushed bald eagles. The rusty discoloration is manufactured in Venice for $1,800 --the dust is about $8 an ounce. The left headlight has all the Blaupunkt stereo components, and the left has a death ray that On Star won't activate until I get a credit card."
I lovingly pat the primer hood, and the rearview mirror falls off.
"Breakaway mirrors increase aerodynamic efficiency," I explain.
"Did you know you're dragging your muffler?"
"That's a safety feature."
"Slows the car down?"
"No, the grinding squeal alerts other drivers to my presence, and the sparks increase my visibility."
"This all seems like a long way to go to keep your car from getting stolen."
"Well, I've always preferred to leave it unlocked and with the keys in it and my wallet sitting on the dashboard next to the loaded pistol," I reflect.
"Loaded pistol?"
"Knocking out those red lights in town has increased my fuel efficiency 8%."
"And it's never been stolen?"
"Oh, sure it has. All the time, in fact. But they always come back once they encounter the anti-theft technology: the Corinthian leather is flaked with hi-tech razor-sharp edges, and the battery doesn't last two hours."
"May I see your license and registration please?"
"I'm sorry officer. I would love to comply, but Phil and I are granted diplomatic immunity by the LOBOnian Consulate." I says.
"The what?"
"The LOBOnian Consulate," I elaborate. "An elite group of dignitaries that manage all affairs of the entire vast country of LOBOnia."
"Who are they?" asks the cop.
"Me an Phil."
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