After my first real encounter with the law I managed to stay out of trouble for quite some time, and it's not that I stayed out of trouble... I just never got caught. Shortly after I turned 22 years of age I moved to the wonderful and illustrious city of Minneapolis. I worked two jobs and used all of the proceeds to benefit my night life and bad habits.

Upon my exhibition lifestyle I made a fairly good friend at and away from work. Between the two of us, Lily and I had every known excuse in the book to keep away from any real job duties. We would spend countless hours watching t.v. and perusing the internet and this was all made possible on account of the evil ex-ho-bag I used to date. The ex happened to work day shift as a supervisor and I stole her keys and made copies just so Lily and I could go out to the roof and smoke a few bowls of happy shwag. Lily had a friend, who had this brother, who had a cousin that lived not too far from me and his roommate had a supplier of the greatest marijuana in all of candy land.

Once I was deemed "trustworthy" by Lily and her friend, who had this brother, who had a cousin that lived not too far from me and his roommate had a supplier... I was given a task, and for this task I was to be paid greatly with the byproduct of a possibly worse bad habit than I already had. All I had to do was stop by the house, pick up 1 pound of weed, and deliver it to my coworkers car when I got to work. Simple. Very simple. Too simple.

I awoke that night as usual.. 10 minutes before my work shift started. I showered, primped, and pressed before I sauntered through the hallway on my merry way. I hopped in the front seat of my pimped out ride, turned the stereo up, and embarked upon my task.

I arrived in decent fashion and strolled carelessly up their walkway. Once inside I picked up the package and concealed it. In case you're wondering, yes! concealing it by adding 4 years of hard beer drinking to my belly! Once my scary 12 step walk to my car was completed I tossed the package in the backseat, turned up the stereo, and rushed off to work.

I drove for 2 blocks, made my left hand turn as usual, and noticed the flashing blue and red lights behind me. Insert every fucking explicit you can think of here, insert excessive shaking, and almost pee your pants too... because you're about to be in a serious bag of hurt.
I pulled into the gas station, the same gas station that was half of a block away from my work, rolled down my window, and turned off my car.

Staring into the side mirror like a horror flick was unfolding on it's shimmering screen, I watched the officer get bigger and bigger as my fear got deeper and deeper with every step he took towards me. By this point my steering wheel was dripping with sweat and my pants were about four seconds away from complete urine saturation.

He strutted up to the window of my car and made the age old statement "Excuse me sir, do you know why I pulled you over?"
To this I stammered with balls in my throat "I really had no idea... officer."
He puffed out his chest and let out a massive sigh, then asked me to step out of my vehicle. I could have sworn I was paralyzed from the eyebrows down as I floated magically out of the drivers seat to the side of my car. I'm sure the smell of fear and "oh shit" radiated from me and filled his nostrils as he escorted me back to his vehicle...

I sat in the front seat of the squad car and eyeballed all the equipment with it's flashing lights, and Armor-All sheen. I sat in fume of clean as the officer walked around my vehicle jotting down vital little tidbits of my near and certain prosecution. It would be another 10 years and 3 days before he finally returned to the squad car and my mind was filled with nonsensical chanting:

I smell bacon, I smell pork, look out piggy... I've got my fork
I smell bacon, I smell pork, look out piggy... I've got my fork
I smell bacon, I smell pork, look out piggy... I've got my fork

I held back my smile as he rattled off my license plate to the dispatcher, he then turned to me and stated "i'm pulling you over for not using your turn signal, speeding 41 miles per hour in a 35 zone, not wearing a seat belt, illegal vehicle lighting, illegal license plate cover, unregistered vehicle for the current state of residence, and a noise ordinance violation. Do you understand the corrective nature of these actions?"

I stared at him blankly as I felt my future swirling down the toilet of life, I felt my leg begin to quiver, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise... but somehow I managed to slip out a somber "yes sir". He then ripped a sheet of paper off his tablet. As each perforation separated with a tug of his law embracing hand I felt the air becoming thinner and thinner as my lungs slowly folded within my chest.

Then something unexpected... a slight grin formed at the corner of his mouth, and I swear he winked at me before he exclaimed "I'm letting you go with a warning, but get that registration fixed immediately." I sat there, lungs compressed, legs numb, lip quivering, with an idiotic expression of "what the fuck" stamped on my forehead. He nodded at me and wished me a good evening. Bewildered and in a state of euphoria I left the police vehicle and staggered over to my own. I watched his caution flashers flicker off as he merged into the endless traffic.

It probably took me another fifteen to twenty minutes before I realized what had actually happened. The package... the task... was gone from the backseat. The stories that unfolded from my horrific journey were at the very least... laughable. I was mockery among friends. I was a tag-a-long good luck charm. I was in debt to my fucking eyeballs with Lily, but what was I supposed to do? Walk into the police station and calmly state that an officer stole a one pound package of an illegal substance out of my car instead of giving me 600 dollars worth of tickets and fines... bastards.