Thursday, February 5, 2009

Garfield & The Law

One doesn’t mess with the law.

The nearly extinct law abiding SA citizen is under impossible pressure these days. This rare species is tested to the limits and finds it impossible to keep trouble at bay.

There's me, a feeble excuse for a patient driver. Twisting one finger at lawless lopsided vehicles almost makes me feel better. Taking both hands off the steering-wheel however, and sending secret sign languages to pieces of swerving scrap-metal junk makes me feel infinitely better. I dare not think of the consequences when the favor gets returned if ever I loose my way in Mitchell’s Plain or Soweto. Heaven forbid that I have to ever venture over those borders…I’m a really scared person in reality.

My currently yeast-riddled mind hobbled into something that happened 3 weeks ago. A arse tightening-clinging episode, if looked at from several angles:

Lovely Friday summer night out, music band, watching bemused how children are attracted to pole-dancing whilst the parent look on shocked and anxiously. Salt scent of the ocean and... Hmm-ah. Paying an extortionate huge price for shit-cooked king-prawns (blame the kitchen) and reluctantly going home before the cops are out.

I breathe out garlicy relief as the usual police-infested circle is quiet. The field is clear and the 1.6km drive home will be pudding. At the top of the little hill however, we are met with flashing blue lights, red lights, filthy yellow sign boards indicating rather filthy language, torch-lights and moving uniforms.

Oh shit. OH SHIT. (Oh f**kfkkffkkkkkkk...).

No worries, I say, switching to a lower gear.

We’re way over the limit!

Yes I know.

They’re going to lock us up tonight; we're in our chops!

Oh shut up, just chill

And you better not talk so much. Just answer the questions

Hey, the garlic pong in here will deter or overpower anyone that dares coming too near...

Okay, now be normal. Talk and sound SOBER


Slightly heavy sandal on the brakes. Oh... My... Word.

A complete hunk approaches the car. The wispy hair and olive skinned attractive manly kind that turns normal people into lisping drooling and popped-eyed jellyfish. He is air-suckingly gorgeous; this policeman. For crying out loud, B-E-A-U-T-I-F-OOO-L. And THIS rare specy is stepping towards ME, right on my doorstep...

A rather sobering thought.

All okay ladies? (Cop-man greeted by two killer-Garfield grins)

Yip-ah…We live here actually. Just over there at the gate (You can come over after your shift finished)

My mind clouds over faster than Everest; the demister will soon overheat and explode.

He smiles at me (us) and it is impossible to stop the muscle-grinding grin that spreads and stretches to the ends of the world. Could look slightly moronic in sober daylight, I think.

Okay, you may go then. Have a nice evening.

(Oh, is that it? No more nice questions?)

A-alright-y… (Breathy sound)

Turning the car into the driveway I nearly crash straight through the iron gate. My mind flutters and swivels with desperate ideas.

Do you think I could bring over some coffee?

Are you MAD!! All of them will want coffee. They’ll pick up that you’re drunk.

Why, would they? It’s only a garlic hangover.

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