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
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
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