A Story about Escape
One night after a few beers, I drove up to a stoplight and noticed a chick I knew waiting at the light. I saw a slippery spot in the road, and tried to impress her by doing a 360°. Unfortunately, I did not see the two police cars on the opposite corner. Though my 360° became a 225°–certainly not impressive–it somehow put me on the street where I live. I usually did not do 75mph to get to my house, but this time, I had no choice!
After beating the police to my house, I decided not to go in. Instead, I went around the house and into the back yard, through the sticker bushes, and through a 2 foot deep swamp for about a mile. (Did I mention it was January in Arkansas? –very icy.)
Well, I ended up at the gas station where I called my roommates. “The po-po’s are asking whose car it was,” they told me. So, I called the police and said my car had been stolen.
I didn’t do time. But I still have scars from the bushes and my work pants were destroyed. The good news is…later that night, the police called my house and said that they had found my car. Man, was I relieved! Too bad it wouldn’t be the last time I got in trouble for a girl…
About papimcgill
the thing i love most about this story is that it’s true! ha ha.
Two thoughts:
1) There is something SO southern – culturally and psychologically – about this story. And I say that with love and understanding, not in mockery. I have a related tale that might need to be shared here someday that occurred on the Virginia/Tennessee/North Carolina border…. and only c/would have occured there.
2) In the collective experience of my bad judgment prone friends, the “my car was stolen” play has NEVER before been known to have worked. Nice.
Yes! ecrussell nailed it…this story’s every bit southern as fried okra.