Just yesterday I was watching a
television show called COPS. It is one
of the longest running shows on TV, and follows law enforcement folks
on-the-job as they apprehend nefarious felons.
Every once in a while there is an
episode that sticks out, I feel, because of the sheer stupidity of the
criminals and their associated excuses for committing their illegal deeds.
Last night’s show was
particularly entertaining as the police were attempting to stop a vehicle with
no working tail lights. It seems the
driver was in a decided hurry to be elsewhere and didn’t stop when the police
turned on their lights and siren,
As a public service from
EasternShoreFishAndGame.com, when the police turn on their lights and siren,
you are, by law, supposed to stop immediately. You’re welcome.
The fleeing driver did not, and
the pursuit began.
We learned throughout the pursuit
that the vehicle-in-question was, in fact, stolen.
Upon crashing the car into an
immovable tree, the fleeing retard began his escape attempt on foot.
Not being an athlete – likely as
a result of his regular ingestion of crack cocaine – this future felon had some difficulty out
running a policeman wearing fifty pounds of gear, and carrying 25-plus years of
doughnuts on this feeble attempt at freedom.
By the way, the cameraman and audio guy nearly outran them all.
When captured a short distance
later, the somewhat angry policeman handcuffed this turd and began the search
for contraband. A variety of debris was
removed from pockets, including lint, some crack, and a handy utensil for smoking it.
Not smiling because of his
unexpected workout, the cop seemed delighted these goodies were found on his
prey.
The captured fellow expressed
surprise that could win an Oscar when the illegal business was removed from his
trousers.
“These ain’t my pants!” exclaimed
the criminal, attempting to explain the drugs and drug pipe found in his
immediate possession.
He claimed he bought the pants a
day earlier and didn’t check to see if anything was in the pockets.
This afternoon my sainted wife
caught a glimpse of the t-shirt I was wearing.
Using my experience from COPS, I
proudly announced, “It’s not my shirt.”
I could immediately tell that she
knew that was not the truth, probably faster than the cop in yesterday’s
episode.
She gave me that stare, and I
tried to return it. Nothing worked.
I took my lumps for being the
messiest eater on The Shore.
Busted.
