How to Annoy Law Enforcment

How to Annoy Law Enforcment(Emerald Gowers) It's Eastern Pennsylvania in the early '90s. It is a warm summer's night at about 10:00 on Friday. Tim is 19 years old and has just gotten his first car, a red Opel Manta wagon from the seventies, road legal, and decided to pick up a few buddies, Steve and Greg to hang out. After driving around Doylestown for an hour or so and finding the usual tourists and nothing of interest going on, they pull into a parking lot to decide what to do.

'Damn it, if we were just two years older we could go to a bar or something,' Greg lamented from the back seat. 'We wouldn't have to keep driving in circles like, ... I don't know...'

Tim lit a cigarette. 'Usually, I'd ask my brother,' His cigarette bobs up and down in his mouth as he speaks, the orange flame making luminescent trails in the darkened car. 'But Dave is in Florida shooting some movie, and I'm not asking anyone on the street to buy for us.'

'So what do we do?' Steve asks.

There is a collective hopeless sigh from the car. It seemed as though another Friday night would be spent circling the town like urban vultures, looking for a place to leave the car.

Steve breaks the silence. 'We could go have a coffee at Perkins.'

'Yeah, I guess...' Tim starts the car. 'I know. I have a great idea!' The car backs out of the parking space and heads for the nearest convenience mart.

The wagon rolls into another parking space and Tim hops out leaving the car idling. 'Be right back.' He says with an evil looking smile.

"Do you know what he's doing?' Steve asks Greg.

'I never do.'

Tim returns to the drivers' side door a moment later laden down with three ominous looking plastic bags. 'Gentlemen, I have our solution.' He hands one bag to Steve, the other to Greg.

Forty five later, the guys are once again cruising the streets of Doylestown, taking huge slugs out of their beer cans, shouting at pedestrians, randomly honking the horn with the radio playing insipid rock n roll tunes at full blast.

Greg takes a long pull off of his can, finishing the swill, and tosses it on the floor immediately opening another one. 'I don't know why we didn't think of this earlier.'

Tim blasts the horn at a group of passing girls. 'Hey ladies, want a beer?' They look at him with disgust and walk off. He throws his head back and laughs. 'Guess not.'

Steve points up the road to where a police cruiser is sitting... waiting... for something to happen. 'Look, there's Pet-a-Pig, shall we pay him a visit?'

Pet-a Pig was sitting in his car, almost ready to turn in for the night. It had been a slow day today with not much criminal activity going on. The highlight of the day had been a call to assist in a search for a missing child, who, was in the house and sleeping under the bed the whole time. Pet-a-Pig was happy with his job otherwise, cracking down on Doylestown with an iron fist of justice from which no law breaker could escape.

Pet-a-Pig heard them coming before he saw them, a few blasts of a sick-sounding horn, a garbled yell, and some tinny version of Smoke on the Water blaring from a cheap stereo system. The car slowly rolled past him, the occupants smiling, waving. In unison beer cans appear in their hands, they each took a long pull off of their beer and sped away.

Pet-a -Pig was stunned at what he had just seen. He knew two of the occupants, the Griffin boy and the Smith's son, were too young to drink. He snapped out of his reverie and turned his sirens on. 'Not on my watch.' A catch like this could mean a promotion or even a pay raise. Wouldn't the chief be pleased to have these delinquents off of his streets? He chased after them, the sirens being heard for miles.

Greg gazed out the rear window watching Pet-a-Pig approach. 'I think we're busted, man.'

'Busted my ass.' Tim pulls to the side of the road and tosses his almost empty beer can on the floor, adding to the twelve or so cans that had accumulated there throughout the night.

'Driver, step out of the car with your hands on your head.' Pet-a-Pig had his spotlight trained on the car. Tim exited. 'Front passenger exit car with your hands on your head. Now!' Steve exited as commanded. Pet-a-Pig ordered them to sit on the curb and walked over to the car. 'Rear passenger, out!' Greg stepped out and sat on the curb with Tim and Steve. A beer can landed on the asphalt with an audible clunk. The car reeked of old, stale beer. Pet-a-Pig picked it up and examined it for a moment before tossing it back into the car. He turned towards the boys, a pleased look of ire on his face. 'Do you know how much trouble you're in?' He called for backup and continued to lecture them on the dangers of drinking and driving, underage drinking, and being stupid enough to draw attention to their shenanigans.

Three backup patrol cars arrived, their grim looking occupants surveying the scene laid out before them, Pet-a-Pig filling them in on the gruesome details, painting himself as the savior for these three lost souls, who, would have otherwise wandered into a life of illicit crime. Pet-a-Pig sighed, 'How will their poor mothers handle this?' He said loud enough for the boys, still sitting on the curb to hear.

'Hey Sarge,' another officer called to the supervisor. 'I need you to come here and take a look at this.' Sarge joined the other officer who was examining a beer can. They had a brief, hushed conversation.

"Officer Petticent, come here please.' Pet-a-Pig walked over to where his superiors were standing.

"Yeah Sarge,'

On the curb the boys giggled. Their entertainment for the evening was fulfilled.

"Did you look at these beer cans before you called us?'

'I did, is there a problem?'

Sarge took a deep breath. "This beer is O'Doul's. O'Doul's beer is non-alcoholic." Sarge held up a crushed can for Pet-a-Pig to see the large red N/A symbol that was emblazoned on the dented vestibule. 'These boys have done nothing wrong."

Pet-a-Pig was crestfallen. The promotion, the pay raise, the respect that would have been gained at the office, gone, gone with the wind so to speak. He would be the laughingstock of the precinct after this. Any sense of heroism vacated him as he sulked back to his car visibly disheartened, the laughs of senior officers and rookies alike dogging him along the way.

Sarge turned to the boys. 'Just go home and go to bed. I don't want to see you kids out here again tonight. Do you understand?' The boys nodded. 'Now get outta here. You were lucky this time.

The boys jumped back in the still reeking car and drove off into the night.