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Zero Sense of Humor

So the local police here in sub­ur­bia have no sense of humor, zero, zilch, nada. It’s about 3 a.m. and I find myself at Wawa, des­per­ate­ly in need of caf­feine, I sweep in, hit the ATM, grab 2 one liter Diet Cokes and 2 SFRBs and a Pan­tone 388 apple, that’s bright green, if your swatch book isn’t handy. Just as I was grab­bing the apple, ‘I feel good’ by James Brown start­ed play­ing over the Wawa sound sys­tem, now it’s 3 a.m. 90% of the world may be tired, but I just woke up, so I couldn’t help myself, I began to dance, but not as I would dance, but as ‘JAMES’ would dance, up and down the aisles with my hand­ful of car­bon­at­ed jet fuel and my bright green apple, shuf­fling my feet, slid­ing up and down the aisles in my own lit­tle world. Which of course I wasn’t actu­al­ly in, no I was in a con­ve­nience store in the wee hours of the morn­ing, in the mid­dle of sub­ur­bia, danc­ing like in my mind James Brown.

I explained to the police­man, that I was just hap­py, and that I would go home and dance, he looked at me like I was the per­son­i­fi­ca­tion of poor evil, some drug-crazed goa­tee wear­ing freak, so hopped up on goof-balls that I couldn’t con­tain my joy­ous feet long enough to get a bev­er­age. “Get on home, now son!” the nice offi­cer told me, “yes, sir!, going home sir!” in hind-sight, any attempt at humor with a law enforce­ment per­son, is a bad idea, “sor­ry I danced in pub­lic sir!, me and Kevin Bacon are going Home now, sir!”…why I chose to accen­tu­ate every state­ment with ‘SIR’ is beyond me, but I start­ed to gig­gle, I mean what he going to do ‘arrest me for danc­ing liked James, flash ahead to my arraign­ment

Bailiff read the charge..

“Saul was arrest­ed on the morn­ing of August 5th at a Wawa, where he was being funky as he wan­na be and he was also get­ting down with his bad self both pre­sum­ably with­out a license.”

[flash back to now] So this par­tic­u­lar cop wasn’t a huge ‘Foot­loose’ fan and he cracked nary a smile, but the guy behind the counter lost it, and began laugh­ing so hard I think he pulled a mus­cle, At this point the morn­ing could have gone in two dra­mat­i­cal­ly dif­fer­ent direc­tions, one involv­ing bail mon­ey and a cav­i­ty search, the oth­er involv­ing my coke and blog­ging.

I must stop going to that Wawa.