Cops 1996
by Kerry Joyce
illustration by Mark Reusch
The following story is a dramatization. Any resemblance to persons or situations depicted herein and those broadcast on copywritten network TV docu-dramas is purely coincidental (or just proves my point.)
-Pffft. You’re not from around here, are you boy?
-No, officer, this is a rental car. I’m just visiting from…
-Lemme see, I’d say you’re probably from New York.
-Well, actually, officer, I’m from Massachusetts.
-Massatusits. Well, that was going to be my next guess. You know what we call the state of Massatusits down here?
-Taxachusetts?
-Taxatusits, that’s right. You’re not as dumb as most the tourists we get.
-Well officer, the state is really changing. We have a Republican Governor now, Bill Weld and…
-Oh yeah I know about Weld. I saw him on C-SPAN. He’s one of them livertarian Republicans, buddying up to homosexules and feminists. He don’t count as a Republican in my book. Can I see your license and registration, please.
-Certainly, officer.
-Hmmm. Well, Mr. Visitor from the great state of Massatusits, I had you clocked on radar. Would you like to venture a guess at what speed you were going when you passed me by?
-Around fifty-five?
-Fifty-five. ‘Zactly right. And do you know what the speed limit on this particular well-maintained stretch of our interstate highway system happens to be?
-Well, the sign I saw said seventy.
-You’re right again. The speed limit here in this fine, upstanding community is 70 miles per hour. So would you mind explaining to me why you was only going 55?
-Well officer, you were at the top of a hill and I…
-Son, you’re behind the wheel of a V-8 powered, fully-loaded, American built Ford Crown Victoria automobile. T’ain’t no ‘scuse for going 55. No ‘scuse at all. Why, my department used to have this very same model until the county made me get that there Toyota Camry back. You’re not one of them baby-seal-loving envir-o-mentalists, are you boy?
-No officer, I even have some fur-lined gloves in the trunk.
-You sure you’re not trying do your small part to save the ozone layer or anything by holding back on that gas pedal just a little bit?
-No sir, I have some aerosol spray underarm deodorant in my shaving kit.
-Them boys in Washington said we could set our speed limit at anything we want, and we chose to make it 70 miles per hour. You don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, do you son?
-No, officer.
-A V-8 engine’s gotta breathe. You gotta keep it revved up. Them fuel injectors are gonna run amuck on you before you even get it back to the rental agency if you don’t get ’em to racin’ once in a while. Don’t you know nothing about automobiles?
-Only a little.
-Well, here’s your paperwork back. You’re all right, I ‘spose. I could give you a ticket for that burned-out bulb on your brake lights, but I’m gonna give you another chance. But I want you to promise me you’re gonna keep your speed up over sixty-five.
-Thank you, officer. I don’t know what came over me. I made a trip to Graceland yesterday and I guess I was feeling a little down.
-Well, that’s all right son. Elvis was a great man. Real tragedy when he died. My wife cried for a week. But do you think if Elvis was alive he’d drive down a road at 55 with a posted speed limit of 70?
-No, officer.
-Of course he wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t want you driving that slow neither. So get going.
-Thanks officer, I will.
