I’m not sure how many of you know what I do for a living, but I can tell you that it involves taking people to jail.
Last night, I was burning the midnight oil when a call came in. There was someone strutting around naked downtown. The suspect was described as a black and white, mustachioed male wearing a top hat and a monocle.
I arrived on scene and there was the suspect. I got out of my car and blew my whistle. I put the suspect in the back of my car and gave him his clothes, which consisted of an overcoat and pants. I interviewed the suspect. Apparently the fellow had won 1st place in a beauty contest, with a prize of $50. He decided to spend his winnings on a night on the town.
I took the suspect to jail. We went directly to jail but I had to take a detour so I did not pass the giant “GO” sign that had fallen across I-69.
At the jail, the Corrections Officer asked the suspect if he could bond out. The suspect turned out his pants pockets, which were empty. He also gave a strange little wink that seemed out of place in the situation at hand.
We waited for our turn in booking. We were told that we “rolled a 7”, whatever that meant. M. Moneybags was booked into the jail and I was heading back to the city. I took one look back and saw him holding onto the bars of his cell. He had a creepy smile on his face and there was that weird wink again.
As I drove away from the jail in my little metalic shoe, I reflected on the odd nature of that arrest. It was very different than other situations I had been in, yet it all seemed somewhat familiar. On the way back to the city I stopped for a bite to eat and was forced to pay a Luxury Tax of $75, which all seemed very arbitrary.
Well, that’s my story. Now if you’ll excuse me, I just got a call that somebody rolled doubles three times in a row.