Wherein I am Arrested and Thrown in Jail Like a Common Jail Denizen

The sound of the handcuffs ratcheting around my wrists brought forth a literal volcano of terror in my heart.  To arrest me for the simple act of beating a man bloody then urinating on him is a great injustice!  One which every sovereign person of the land has a duty to RESIST!!  Being denied the use of my hands for fisticuffs, (all the better to resist this kidnapping masquerading as a lawful arrest!) I opted instead for footsicuffs, kicking wildly as two brutish pig-officers carried me closer to the police cruiser wherein I would be transported to jail. They placed me inside surprisingly gently, and I decided to ruse them by behaving in a compliant, genteel manner for a moment. "After you!" I said as they explained I had to watch my head as I climbed inside. I did this to trick them.

As I was looking around from the cab of the police car, cooly assessing my situation, I saw that damn Ricardo having his wounds tended by paramedics with MY Katie doting over him like some kind of hero! I tried screaming for her, but she couldn't hear me due to the confinement of the police car. I yelled until my throat hurt, which wasn't very long because I yelled really loud. I would need another means of communicating with her.

They say there are only two places a man can become a genius; prison or the battlefield. Well, I am a genius who has been to several battlefields, and here I was in the cab of a police cruiser, basically in prison. So of course like a flash of a billion supernovae, a genius idea came to me. I could still communicate with Katie via morse's code! Not having a proper antique telegraph with which to make the code, I was forced to use the tools at hand, which in my case consisted of bashing my head into the side window in the S-O-S of yore. (it goes "...---..." etc.)

Bracing myself, I sideways-bashed my head into the door.  "WOCK! WOCK! WOCK! whib! whib! whib! WOCK! WOCK! WOCK!"  The sound was deafening inside the police cruiser, and I can only imagine resonated through the renaissance fair parking lot as well.  As pig-officers are wont to do, one of them snuck up on me and opened the door suddenly, and I felt myself fall out of the police car and onto the dirty grass with a dull "thud" sound.  Then I felt knees all over my perfectly balanced body, not even the protective layer of fat I've developed was able to withstand the agony inflicted by the pig-pile of pigs all over me.

Shackles ratcheted around my ankles and in sheer terror I realized they were re-kidnapping me worse than before, rather than responding positively to my morse's code S-O-S. "I CAN'T BREATHE!!"  I shrieked at the top of my lungs.  I repeated this several times as they forcibly hog-tied me despite squirming and screaming to the best of my ability.  They then group hoisted and placed me on my side in the cab of the cruiser as I shouted the very basest, most crude obscenities I knew at them. This miscarriage of justice was completely beyond the pale!  All this fuss over a little old writer!

  But alas, despite my deft martial skill I had been completely defeated, and as the pig-officer drove me to the jail I was certain would be my place of death, I could do nothing more than explain to the asshole with a badge that I was a WRITER and subsequently regale him with ideas I had for novels, novellas, and novelettes.  As we arrived in the prison garage, the big Russian corrections officers at the jail loaded me onto a gurney and put me in a weird velcro vest I'm certain scores of drug addicted cretins had vomited upon. The officer rudely declined to shake my hand as they carted me away, strip searched me, then placed me in a small cell with a dozen of the dirtiest prison denizens I had ever met.

I am too emotionally overwhelmed at the recollection to continue, tears are literally falling on my flip-phone as I type this.  I shall regale you sometime later in the week with the story of my trial, imprisonment, and triumphant release on my own recognisance after being ordered to perform community service of some stripe.

Stay Attuned!

Jordan

Wherein I Am Taken Prisoner By the Police, and Wherein Katie is Revealed as a Harlot, and Wherein I Urinate on Ricardo's Chest, All In the Backdrop of a Renaissance Fair

PART THE FIRST

So as I iterated in my last post, my life has changed somewhat dramatically over the last several weeks.  In this post, I shall reiterate with a higher degree of detail what has caused me to go so long without posting on this web log.  It was, at least to me, an epic of wonton yet cathartic events which, in turn, (at least from my perspective,) has allowed me to become a more sophisticated scribe (which to you common people means I am a better writer yet!)  Therefore, it is my wont to record these events in the utmost humility for the benefit of posterity, progeny, and protege.

It began, as I have stated in the previous paragraph (excellent writers always repeat important things several times, a technique called "theme" which I learned in jail,) when I informed my (unbeknownst to me at the time,) soon to be EX WIFE that I wonted to go to the local Renaissance fair.  I felt the Renaissance fair, with it's ability to transport the common gawker into a fantasy land inhabited by pigments of the imagination such as knights, dragons, and sorcerers (this is another thing I learned in prison, never put more than three things in a list or you may confuse your readers.  This is a technique called "simplification," but I digress,) would stoke the fiery flames of my imagination and finally allow me to write a complete piece.  I am a person who constantly wonts stimulation, and once I have enough I know in my heart of hearts I will be able to settle down and write.

So as I asked Katie to attend to renaissance fair with me, a surprising thing happened.  She didn't roll her eyes or start crying as Katie is wont to do when I say things to her.  Her response was nothing less than an enthusiastic "yes!"  I was chuffed!  In my excitement to go I quickly fashioned a "knight" costume from a plastic garbage bag, cutting holes for my arms and head then fashioning a Templar Cross from red duct tape across the chest and back. I then forged a helmet by wrapping a plastic jar of protein powder in duct tape (in the mummy technique of ancient Egypt,) and then cutting holes large enough to accommodate my generously apportioned and voluptuous head, (all the better to hold my big brain in!)  Whence completed the costume, I looked amazing, like a knight of yore.  Katie was preening herself something spectacular, likely she was intending to costume herself as a cortesian (it was only later that I realized she was dressing as a common harlot, and that it was not a costume.)

After several dozen minutes of genteel knocking and not so genteel shouting, Katie finally emerged from the bathroom the very picture of beauty.  I kneeled my most knightly kneel and said in a gentlemanly baritone, "Will you escort me to the renaissance fair?" But oddly she ignored this chivalrous gesture, stepping over me and opting instead to find the keys and exclaim "Let's go, c'mon!"  At the time her enthusiasm for the fair combined with her indifference for my manly gestures confused me, but in hindsight they make absolute, perfect sense.  How could she have deceived an intellectual of my prestige for so long?  Yet in that moment I failed to grasp the significance of what was happening.  I must have neglected my chamomile tea that morning or something - there is no other reasonable explanation for my failure to intuit her true intent.

PART THE SECOND

It only took twenty minutes of circling in the style of a vulture near the fairgrounds entrance to locate a suitable parking space. The child in the orange vest was quite upset, frantically waving his brightly colored stick and even summoning a senior carnie to try to dissuade me from my errand.  But nay!  These people are NOT POLICE OFFICERS and CANNOT TELL YOU WHERE TO PARK.  Because I kept the Prius in motion and never once came to a complete stop, no orange-vested rube was able to approach me.  I was vindicated as some slob carrying a crying child covered in vomit crammed her brood into her minivan and quickly exited.  I snatched that parking space as she pulled out, and no sooner did I stop the car than Katie unceremoniously threw open the door and bolted out, making a beeline for the entrance and leaving me behind to negociate the awkward fit of my protein-jar helmet.

Tragically, finding Katie in the expansive crowd took rather longer than twenty minutes.  It took several hours.  I grew tired and famished in my quest to locate my sweet lady, and only occasionally stopped to criticize other's costumes or maliciously yet cleverly insult the carnies who had been jokingly placed in stockades for some petty transgression.  The facilities were of the "port-a-pot-tea" variety, which are revolting mock ups of suitable bathrooms.  (You can see stranger's poo in them, which is wholly unacceptable! "Tea" indeed!)  As the sun began to set I grew irritated, and the thought occurred to me that Katie had ruined the renaissance fair for both of us.  Alas, little did I know.  In anxious defeat, I began trudging back to the Prius in the hopes she had been waiting for me there the whole time.  I so badly wanted to see her pretty face, even her irritated pretty face! But when I did see it in the parking lot, I was instead filled with dread and disgust.

As I exited the fairgrounds, I saw Ricardo pulling up on his motor-bicycle with a passenger.  As they removed their helmets, I saw the passenger was in fact my Katie and a wave of relief passed over me.  This relief quickly morphed into a soul-twisting rage as they dismounted the motor-bicycle, embraced as only lovers do, and then began the most obscene kind of open-mouth-kissing, as if each other's tongues were made of ice cream and they had been parched in the Sahara for days.  It was at this moment that everything, literally everything fell into place for me.  Ricardo's frequent overnight visits.  The extensive cash loans Katie had made to him, (which he still owes me yet.)  Her total lack of interest in my romantic overtures, and Ricardo's perverse fascination with Puppy Bear. With this kind of disillusionment can only come the most bitter variety of rancor, and come it did...

PART THE THIRD

Rage of this caliber cannot be confined to soul and intellect for long, and as righteous vehemence is wont to do, quickly manifested itself in a more corporeal form.  I dashed across the parking lot, latent combat reflexes welling up within me, wind whistling through my knightly helmet singing the praises of my infliction of justice, as nature is wont to do.  It was time to punish this charlatan for his multiple and vile transgressions!  They were so ensconced with minutia of one another's oral cavities they didn't even notice my running and shrieking until, flying through the air, I triumphantly dive-tackled Ricardo!  Though I didn't get a good purchase on him, my momentum did knock over his motor-bicycle, fortuitously pinning his leg beneath it.  Quickly recalling my Brazilian jiu-jitsu, I straddled his chest, forcing my knees into his armpits.  This combined with the motor-bicycle on his leg rendered him entirely helpless as I heroically scratched and slapped him, spitting the crudest and most vitriolic words I knew in his ear!

Ricardo, ever the coward lover and never the valiant fighter, simply covered himself up and cried loudly as I pulled his lush hair and repeatedly slapped his prominent cheekbones.  Katie, ever the temperamental redhead, joined the melee, trying to hit Ricardo as well in remorse.  Most of her blows accidentally glanced off of me, but at some level I did appreciate her efforts.  This scene continued for not nearly long enough before I heard a cacophony of running, the familiar sound of boots on turf.  I looked behind me to see several police officers running towards me.  I knew they were about to take Ricardo into custody, and accordingly I  turned back to him with the intent to double the efforts of my slapping before they arrived. (I would not be able to slap him once he was in handcuffs, as it is not gentlemanly to assail a disabled enemy in just retribution.)

It was at this point I noticed both his eyes had already been blackened, and he was bleeding something frightening from his mouth.  I felt butterflies of terror in my stomach at the realization that indulging in a cruel and cathartic rampage as I had (despite the obvious justification,) meant I was no longer enlightened, at least not for the moment.  As I set Ricardo's battered and quivering head down my legs began to shake, and I am ashamed to say that at that moment, completely emotionally overwhelmed, unable to use the commode for the last several hours, and physically exhausted from my grim chore, I soiled myself in spectacular fashion. As I had opted to wear a rather flimsy pair of nylon cargo shorts that day (all the better to keep me cool,) the lion's share got on Ricardo as I still had him in a Jiiu-Jitsu mount.

This was the justification the police used to arrest me, stating that I had done it on purpose.   They rudely ignored my screaming at them, and Katie, oh that vile Katie!  Made it sound through her rendition of the events that I had been the bad guy that day!  Any remnant of my genteel enlightenment vaporized in the soul-destroying grief and fury I felt, poison rather than love coursing through my chi meridians.  Like a common criminal I was literally hosed down (with freezing water!) in the parking lot in full view of the gaggle of assholes which had gathered to bear witness to my humiliation.  They confiscated the entire ensemble of my costume, then these errant officers chauffeured me to the local jail, and let me tell you going to jail in Snohomish County is the VERY WORST.  They put me in the section with the scumbags and served me the worst variety of cuisine you can imagine (non-organic, frozen GMO!!) all the better to stew in my vile anger until the confrontation with the judge the following day!

But recounting these events has drained my emotional resolve for the time being, and it will be awhile before I can recapitulate recent history further still.  So you, genteel reader, will have to make due until I can reconstitute myself.  Given that I no longer possess my quilt, don't have fast access to chamomile tea nor Xanax, and can't readily afford tobacco (I got SCREWED over my alimony from Katie,) this may be on the order of several days.  Please be patient.  I have an amazing, transformative story to tell.  I have seen the true, repugnant underbelly of the "injustice system," one which exists solely to persecute inspired men such as myself.

Stay Attuned!

Jordan

A Brief Update....

Genteel Readers;

I have three brief updates, though further details are sure to follow:

Katie and I have decided to part ways, an event which occurred at a renaissance fair and was precipitated by the realization that she is, in fact, a worthless harlot.  As Katie is apparently wont to be.

In an unrelated incident, I was arrested for public urination at said same renaissance fair.   I have just been released from jail, as the arrest spiraled into several other unrelated events wherein I threatened the life of a sitting judge as I was being arraigned.

Finally, some good news!  In the ultimate "green" lifestyle change, I have decided to take up permanent residence in my Prius while I pursue work as a writer!  This decision was reached upon my release from jail. My gymnasium has graciously allowed me to "camp" in their parking lot so long as I arrive after closing and leave before opening!

More exciting news is to follow, so stay attuned!