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Thread: Pulled Over

  1. #1
    Registered User Steven Hunley's Avatar
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    Pulled Over

    Pulled Over

    Brad and I used to work the last shift at Hunters together. We were from the opposite ends of the spectrum. I was from San Diego and he was from Wheaton, Ohio. He was the only guy I knew who called Chicago Shytown. So even though that young boy was younger than this old boy, I admired him. He read good stuff, I read good stuff. We both had an interest in photography and the fine art of rolling a proper joint. It was usually Mexican commercial, stank, and tasted like wet cardboard. Sometimes it was better. This was “back in the day” as my son puts it now, and smoking was a highly illegal and clandestine activity.

    Hunter’s was an up-scale bookstore in La Jolla, an up-scale, but not a nose-completely-turned-upward neighborhood, overlooking the blue Pacific. It was a one of a kinder. Whispering palms line avenues of brick and stone redesigning every afternoon to gold pavement, when street lights and shop lights in elegant store windows flash on. Even during the day it was pretty. The view tugged on you, even in your sleep, maybe because pacific means calm.

    Brad and I worked so well together they trusted us to lock up at night at ten. We had this lady, and I mean that in the finest sense of the word, that was reasonably new, maybe on her fourth paycheck. She was pretty in the same way Beaver’s mother June was pretty. She had a nice voice and pleasing manner, strictly upper crust. I took her for a bored socialite on the make for an affair with Dr. Salk, who came in alone, when he wasn't with Picasso's mistress, Francoise Gilot. Francoise dragged Salk in one time looking for a copy of her book, Life with Picasso. We were a small bookstore and didn't have it. We only had room for books that sold. These rich folks, you learn to get over them after a while and see through their pretense. Just like you, they want love and attention.

    So we told her we’d sold out, but they were “on order”.

    June, our bored socialite, was giving a dinner party. “Up the hill,” she said, and gestured toward Mount Soledad. She was sporting a white summer dress, printed with scarlet hibiscus. It had narrow straps, and you could see the tan lines on her shoulders. The curves, the curves! My mouth was watering over her curves. Right there in Hunter’s, I was having a Pavlovian experience.

    Sorry readers. When I got to the spot when I was making up what her shoulders look like, I took for an image my favorite shoulders, You-Know-Who’s shoulders! I’m ready to wax poetic over them any day of the week. Her curves are superb.

    Oops! Back to the story…

    It looked like she was trying to hitch a ride with her thumb. She’d never hitched a ride in her life.

    I betcha You-Know-Who never hitch-hiked. I’ll have to ask her. She’s always good for a story.

    “Oh Jeez, those places always have a view,” crossed my mind.

    But we’d have to all pitch in five bucks. We all did, and gladly, because our plan was this. I had a doob and he had a doob and our intent was to go to his house directly after work, take off our ties and change clothes, smoke those two doobies, go up to Mount Soledad with an extreme case of the munchies, and devour with reckless abandon every bit of wondrous high-class sophisticated food in that fancy house.

    Consume and consume and consume whatever lay in our path. Lay waste to the hordorves and canapes, whatever canapes are. Oh, and drink ourselves silly too, if there was anything to drink. We had grand plans for a late night feast. In sex and eating, imagination reigns supreme.

    Ten came and we were out the door and into my Volkswagen bus. Of course it's a grey and exceedingly ugly Volkswagen bus. It's parked on the street and I fire it up and pop on the lights and away we go, crossing Girard.

    That's as far as we get, because a cop turns his lights on us. This wasn't part of the plan. But I'm a positive person and Brad looks a bit concerned, and don't want Brad to ruffle his feathers, so I say,

    "Don't worry, it couldn't be anything, we've only crossed the intersection."

    And I give him a look and see tiny beads of sweat appear on his forehead.

    "Oh, O.K." he says, just as a young officer's head appears at my open window.

    to be continued...

    ©StevenHunley2019

    https://youtu.be/Ea79npseZhk Rainy Daze - That Acapulco Gold
    Last edited by Steven Hunley; 09-02-2019 at 04:48 PM. Reason: needed to revise!

  2. #2
    On the road, but not! Danik 2016's Avatar
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    Enjoyed your new story, Steven. Curious for the sequel.
    #Stay home as much as you can and stay well

  3. #3
    Registered User Steven Hunley's Avatar
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    Pulled Over

    Pulled Over Part Two



    "Oh, O.K." he says, just as a young officer's head appears at my open window.

    “Can I see your license?”

    “Sure, Officer…” I give his name tag a look, “Callahan.”

    I hand it over.

    “Your right brake light is out,” he informs us, “This will take a while” he says and strolls leisurely back to his squad car.

    Simultaneously we sigh a sigh of relief, just like in the movies.

    “See, I told ya. Not to worry.”

    “Yes, you know… I was getting a little tense.”

    “It’s OK, no big deal. If I’m lucky it’ll be only a fix-it ticket.”


    I can see Callahan in my side-view mirror, back there in his comfortable black and white Ford Crown Victoria with the overstuffed upholstery, the metal cage, and the doors that don’t open from the inside in the back seat, doing his job, filling out paperwork for a blindfolded lady who’s supposed to have scales in her hand, but doesn’t. As soon as he’s done, we’ll be on our way.

    I’m feeling better about the whole thing, like it’s already over and we’re in his house changing clothes and about to spark up those two fat doobies, drive up the hill, and eat ourselves to death in a house with a heavenly view. For it was rumored the Gods of Plenty lived on Mount Soledad. You could hear them grumble on stormy nights just like Mount Etna.

    “Hey, what’s this?” says Brad. “reinforcements?”

    I look at Brad, and out his window pulling up to the curb is another cop with his red lights flashing. An ominous uniformed figure closes a white box, puts his coffee in a mug holder, gets out and waddles our way. He stops and gives the butt-ugly Volkswagen bus a look, then cocks his head down and peers inside scanning the two long-haired young men scanning him right back.

    After wiping powdered sugar from a doughnut off his upper lip, he raises his nose in the air sniffing north… then south, and proclaims loudly, “I smell marijuana.”

    Right here I know we’ve got trouble.

    Then Officer Trouble is my Name tells the young corporal, “Get them out of the vehicle.”

    Next thing I know we’re standing on the sidewalk assuming the position and being patted down. We have nothing on us. We’re clean. It’s the bus that’s dirty.
    Brad is extra quiet, he’s probably mediating to stay calm, but I’ll never know because just then he bites the dust, collapses in a heap, on the corner of Girard and La Jolla Boulevard.

    Cops are funny guys. The only see two kinds of people, Victims and Perps. You’re either one or the other. So, they go into Save The Victim Mode and proceed to help my buddy from Illinois regain consciousness. They loosen his collar, unbutton his cuffs, and hold his head up while removing his boots. But when boot number two comes off and hits the sidewalk, Brad’s doobie rolls out. Under that overhead streetlamp, the neatly wrapped white rice paper with tightened ends proclaims our innocence.

    Look at me! Do I look smoked to you? What am I, a roach? I’m pristine! I’ve never even touched their lips.”

    But cops? They never listen to long-haired stoners that go to school and work in upscale bookstores, much less to listen their paraphernalia.

    “Bingo,” says the Big Guy and slaps the cuffs on me. “I’ll check the van. Looks like Mr. Cowboy Boots is coming around. You take care of him."




    to be continued...

    ©StevenHunley2021

  4. #4
    Registered User Steven Hunley's Avatar
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    Pulled Over

    Cancelled by author
    Last edited by Steven Hunley; 04-28-2021 at 08:08 PM. Reason: cancel post

  5. #5
    On the road, but not! Danik 2016's Avatar
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    "I look at Brad, and out his window pulling up to the curb is another cop with his red lights flashing. An ominous uniformed figure closes a white box, puts his coffee in a mug holder, gets out and waddles our way. He stops and gives the butt-ugly Volkswagen bus a look, then cocks his head down and peers inside scanning the two long-haired young men scanning him right back."

    "Cops are funny guys. The only see two kinds of people, Victims and Perps. You’re either one or the other. So, they go into Save The Victim Mode and proceed to help my buddy from Illinois regain consciousness. They loosen his collar, unbutton his cuffs, and hold his head up while removing his boots. But when boot number two comes off and hits the sidewalk, Brad’s doobie rolls out. Under that overhead streetlamp, the neatly wrapped white rice paper with tightened ends proclaims our innocence."
    I was missing this kind of tight, ironic narrative!
    #Stay home as much as you can and stay well

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