A guy gets a lucky break.
Call Me Lucky
I’m walking along (minding my own business) when this squad car pulls up. Two cops jump out.
“Put your hands in the air,” the fat cop says.
The skinny one says, “Don’t try anything stupid.”
I don’t mean to be rude, but these two are right out of Central Casting.
I am in pretty good shape for the shape I’m in. I know I can outrun the lard bucket and maybe the skinny one. However, I can’t outrun two Glocks; I raise my hands above my head.
“I didn’t do anything, officers!”
“You are going downtown,” one of them says.
“You’re going to book me? For what? You haven’t even read me my rights.”
So, out of left-field, Officer Skinny says, “You have the right to remain silent…” as the other cop slaps the cuffs on me.
The legalities are out of the way, but they still haven’t told me what I supposedly did.
The two cops strike up a side conversation. All I can make out is, “He could get the chair.”
I’m not saying I haven’t had my run-ins with Johnny Law, but I’ve never done anything that would get me the electric chair. Not that I know of, anyway.
Some garbled communication comes through on the radio. The next thing I know, the cuffs are coming off, and I am suddenly free to go.
I doubt I will ever know what that was all about (unless it’s a headline in tomorrow’s morning rag), but I’m jazzed I dodged a bullet for robbing the 7-11 on Grand this morning.
I only netted $53 and change, and ten sticks of beef jerky. Not a productive day but a lucky one, as it turns out.
There is always tomorrow.