Scapegoat Video (TM)

This morning as I was heading to meet up with a friend to hit the gym, I decided to swing by Scarecrow and drop off the movie I had rented last night when I finally got around to opening up an account there. So I meander down 50th, which is largely empty as it’s 6:40 a.m. on a Saturday, and there’s this cop behind me most of the way. He sorta just toodles behind me though, so I sorta ignore it, and just loop around the block to hit Scarecrow on Roosevelt. I didn’t realize, but even though the cop had turned down a different street, s/he materialized behind me as I was looping around, and pulled up behind me when I parked at Scarecrow. Hm, I think to myself. Nothing more, just “Hm”. I rustle around in my purse to find the video, and when I re-emerge with it and get out of my car, Driver Cop is getting out of the cop car too, with his partner.

ME (Searching for slot on Scarecrow’s door): Hi, um…. did you guys just really want to… help me out… with my video return?

HIM (Stepping ever so slightly in my path to block me from looking): Miss, do you know the license plate number of your car, without looking?

ME (Rambling nonchalantly, as I’m prone to doing and as I for once have all brightly burning tail lights and completely legal tabs): Yeah, it’s ***-***, but the plates used to be ***-*** – the old ones are in my trunk, wanna see? The car technically belongs to my mom, her name is ***** *********, and she lives in Oregon, but we’ve just been too lazy to switch it over… is there a problem?

HIM (friendly, slightly sheepishly): Well, there have been reports…. this car has been reported stolen.

ME: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Are you SERIOUS!? It’s, um, always been mine – do you want to see the title or registration or my insurance or anything?

HIM (Amused but not laughing): Nah, we’ll probably just take a look at your driver’s license…

ME (Handing him license): All that information is out-of-date… do you want my current info? Do you want my phone number? Here, do you want my card? Do you… want anything?

HIM: Nah, we’ll just make a note of it… it was probably just typed in wrong or something.

(Takes my license into the car; he and his partner stay in there for a while. By now four cop cars are surrounding me, blocking me in. My cell phone rings, I make a laugh-infused call to tell my friend I’ll be late because I’m being detained by the cops. Meanwhile Blue Britches gets back out of the squad car and is lingering/listening in on my call and sort of laughing with his eyes.)

ME: Sorry about that. So seriously, can I give you my card so you can tell me when this has been…. straightened out or whatever?

HIM: Don’t worry about it, we’re calling dispatch right now to explain it.

ME: Are you sure?

HIM: Yes, that’s all, take care Miss.

ME: You guys, um, have a good… rest of your… morning.

So all that is nice and hilarious and silly, yes, but I have this weird feeling it’s not over, that I’m going to get pulled over and questioned the next time I, um, return a video or something. And the main punchline was never even mentioned:

WHY WOULD ANYONE EVER WANT TO STEAL MY CAR!? They probably wouldn’t even be able to get it to move, seeing as how you have to sort of flood it to get it to turn over, and the clutch is so stiff it actually kind of hurts your ankle, and there’s a tooth chipped in two gears so sometimes it takes forever to get it out of neutral… seriously, nice choice, Mr. Thief. You may want to invest in some self-respect.

I tell ya, it’s gonna be an interesting vacation.

Oh yeah, P.S. – of COURSE I was wearing the “Another Damn T-Shirt”… t-shirt. Of COURSE.

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