Being a smart-arse can be a real burden in life and on this subject, I am somewhat of an expert. I could write a book about the number of times my smart mouth got me into trouble. At home, I was frequently grounded as a result of this, and at school I regularly got detention. I also have to admit, that the odd bloody nose and swollen lip also often resulted. It wasn’t as if I deliberately sought to piss people off, but at times the distance between my brain and mouth appeared to diminish to zero.
After college, I got a job at a business consultancy agency. We would call on customers who needed to streamline their office or factory structures and offer solutions. Although I apparently did very good work at the company, unsurprisingly, I once again got into the habit of constantly pissing my boss off. As a result of this lifelong pattern, I was frequently ‘punished’ by having to call on customers in small remote places that no one else wished to visit.
It was on my way to one of these hick towns, that this story took place.
Late one afternoon, en-route to one of these godforsaken places, I approached a service station that seemed to have a really interesting diner. Although I only had a further fifty miles to go, I was starving at this point after not having had lunch that day. The food at the diner was excellent and during my meal, I had a beer with my dinner.
Afterward, I visited the small adjoining shop to buy a chocolate bar for later. As I did so, my eyes focussed on the beers on offer. This is when I made the mistake of buying one for my journey ahead. As I drove further, I began sipping on the beer.
When I arrived in ‘Hicksville,’ I pulled up to a stop sign. I was so busy looking at the satnav in my vehicle to locate the motel that I failed to see the police car that was parked up ahead.
As I then proceeded forward. To my horror, a policeman jumped out of the police car before gesturing me to pull over.
After letting my window down, the policeman who was now standing next to me, asked me for my driver’s licence. As I handed it over I observed the name, Woods, pinned to his uniform.
Woods then glanced at the license before handing it back. “Sir, you didn’t stop properly at the stop street before proceeding forward,” he informed me.
“Yes, I did,” I answered, emphatically.
“No sir, it’s a stop sign, not a pause sign,” he countered.
As I continued arguing, his eyes looked past me and focussed on the empty beer bottle I had placed in the centre consul of my car.
“Have you been drinking, sir?” he then asked me.
“Just one beer,” I answered, matter-of-factly.
“Then you won’t mind stepping out of the vehicle, sir?" Officer Woods next suggested.
Irritated, I let out a sigh of frustration as I did so. By now, he had obviously gestured to the other officer sitting in the police car to bring over the breathalyser kit.
After placing it to my lips he instructed me to blow into it.
As Officer Woods looked at the result he uttered, “Looks like you had more than just one beer, sir.”
“What’s it say?” I inquired.
“Well, you are over the limit… Very slightly, I’ll admit, but you are over,” he concluded.
In a last-ditch attempt, I now tried to explain that I had just finished the beer, before babbling on that I was just around the corner from my motel. In conclusion, I incredulously concluded that the streets were empty.
“It looks like you are not taking this matter too seriously,” he stated in a haughty manner.
“I am… Officer Woods, it’s just that I don’t want to waste any more of your time,” I responded with a mildly apologetic grin.
The officer did not buy my half-hearted apology and after my earlier smart-arsed offensive, it was clear that he was out to prove a point.
“Please turn around, sir,” he ordered, prior to cuffing me.
“Morris, you can drive the gentleman’s vehicle and I’ll take him in the police car with me,” Woods instructed his associate.
Within a minute we arrived at the police station. Once inside, Woods unlocked my one cuff and instructed me to sit on the bench in the charge office. After clamping the unlocked handcuff to the armrest of the seat, he informed Dunstan, the man behind the counter, to phone Charlie and tell him that he needed a blood test as soon as possible. He also went on to say that Dunstan should tell Charlie, after Charlie arrived, that he needed the result of the test in time for court the following morning.
As this was happening the second officer, Morris, entered the charge office. As he did so, he held up my car’s keyring and with a snigger, flashed it at the other two policemen.
‘Oh shit, I’m fucked,’ I thought, as I observed the gay flag encased in Perspex.
Shortly, Woods received a callout on his potable two-way radio receiver.
“We need to get moving,” he informed Morris, before telling Dunstan that he would take care of the paperwork when he got back.
As I sat awaiting Charlie’s arrival, I hoped that he would take a long time before coming. The longer the better I ruminated. I had also not imbibed any alcohol in the preceding few days, which also counted in my favour, I reasoned.
When Charlie did arrive an hour and a quarter later, I was confident that the blood test would negate the charges.
Any hope that I would be released and told to appear in court the following morning, however, was negated when I was led off to the police cells.
As we stood before the cell where I was to spend the night, I observed a blanket-covered form on the bunk to my left. The bunk to the right was unoccupied and slightly beyond that, there was a toilet bowl.
After Dunstan locked the cell behind me he banged on the bars and said, “Hey, Lee, I brought you a pussy-boy to practice on, so that when you arrive at the big house tomorrow, you’ll be well-prepared for your stay in prison.” Then, as he was leaving he let out a hearty chuckle and concluded, “Try not to make too much noise, girls.”
As I sat on my bunk nervously, the form before me did not move for several minutes. On one side of the blanketed mound, I observed cowboy boots, a pair of jeans, a leather jacket, and a t-shirt.
When the shape finally sat up and the blanket was tossed to his side, the sight before me was like no other I had ever seen in my life.
Lee was the most butch looking man I had seen in a very long while. On an alpha scale from one to ten, he was an eleven. His entire muscular body was almost completely covered with tattoos.
On his bald head and hairless face; only his ears, lips, and upper eyelids weren’t inked. As I would also see later, on his mostly hairless body, only his armpits, nipples, the palms of his hands, the soles of his feet, and finally his balls, bore no tattoos.
In all honesty, the tattoos were magnificently done and very varied. The one tattoo that immediately captivated me was of a ferocious fantasy creature with menacing teeth, which appeared on his upper chest. His overall appearance was astounding and also totally frightening, all at the same time.
After a few moments, Lee finally spoke. “What are you in for?”
“DUI,” I replied, before going on to tell him the full story.
After I was done, he asked, “Who brought you in?”
“An officer called Woods,” I answered.
With a snigger, Lee then said, “Good old Captain America. I was at school with that prick… actually; maybe prick is the wrong word. Woods has small cock syndrome. His dick is so small that only a chipmunk or squirrel could get excited by that tiny acorn, and chicks only ever bedded him once. I believe that he is still not married,” Lee concluded with a good laugh.
After a brief pause, Lee then continued. “My guess is that you have nothing to worry about. Breathalysers don’t hold up in court. Blood tests are the real deal and from what you have just told me, yours is going to be fine. The other possible ‘pause’ charge is also meaningless, because both officers were in their vehicle and did not have a fully unobstructed view at the time that it occurred. It’s hard to believe that they are actually wasting their time with this. Did you give them lip in the charge office? Something must have triggered them off, for them to lock you up.”
