A Weekend in the Country

I decided to drive to the mountains this morning. It was raining. The cool mist washing across the windshield of the truck was quite charming. I saw a deer. No, not a doe, a deer (a female deer), but a male deer, which is a buck. I think there should be some capitalization there, but I am too tired to bother.

I discovered they have Wal-Marts practically everywhere, even the rolling hillsides. Its somewhat disconcerting, but I suppose that, if one had some kind of emergency that called for a trip to a discount department store whilst communing with nature, it would be quite convenient.

In any event, once I had had enough of the freezing rain and rampant wildlife, I decided it was time to get the fuck out of Shitheel and head back to civilization. On the way, I was pulled over by one of our fine state police officers. He asked me if I knew how fast I was going, to which I replied that if he didn't know, I certainly wasn't going to tell him! We laughed, and then he explained that, apparently, those speed limit signs on the side of the road are not merely a suggestion! I was quite aghast. Then he asked if I had been drinking, and I had to point out to him that it was eight-thirty in the morning--of course I had been drinking! How else could I possibly function well enough to drive that early?

He didn't laugh that time.

He then told me he wanted me to blow into his "little machine", at which point I told him that I had no idea what sort of man he thought I was, but I was certainly not going to grant him sexual favors just to get out of a ticket. I added that I would be more than happy to go down to the station and tell his superiors just what he'd asked me to do. He was gracious enough to recognize defeat, told me I could leave and go masturbate myself, which I am sure he is fantasizing about even as I type this.

It was a lovely morning.