By Natan Baruch.
I saw the flashing lights in my rearview mirror.
“Fuck,” I said. I didn’t even think I was speeding. I pulled to the shoulder and rolled down the window. An officer approached.
“License and registration, please,” he said. I handed them over. “Hmm,” he said. “Do you know what the problem is?”
“No,” I said. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“You’re being a dick to yourself,” said the officer. “I’m gonna have to give you a complement. I love your hair. Is that a recent cut? And here, have a Warhead. Black cherry. Your favorite.”
I lifted my hand and he dropped the candy into my palm.
“Didn’t they discontinue these in the nineties?” I asked.
“So what if they did?” said the officer. “You deserve the best.”
“Oh, I don’t know—”
“Please step out of the vehicle,” said the officer.
“What?” I said.
“Now,” said the officer.
I stepped out of the car and the officer gave me a hug. Continue Reading…