On Monday afternoon I went to pick up Safety Carrot from the day spa where she hangs out while the grownups are at work. Her day had gone very well, featuring both construction-paper artwork and extensive snacking. Apparently the Carrot is big on snacking.

Refreshed and invigorated, we left the spa and returned to our waiting car.

It had a big hole in the window of the front-seat passenger door. Little niblets of glass were all over the asphalt and the upholstery.

And.

Someone had stolen my man purse!

"Don't panic," the Carrot said. "Wait here. I'll find the culprits and hold them until the police arrive." But she already had her five-point restraint on, along with a snowsuit, and was less mobile than she had hoped.

"Oh, forget it," she said. "That thing always made you look like a total fairy anyway."

"This," I sniffed, "coming from the person wearing big pink and purple snowboots. Pot, kettle, etc."

She gave me that narrow-eyed look that tells me it's time to change the subject, so I did and shortly we were playing Large Number Logarithms and yukking it up like we always do.

Today I remembered that, along with some stylish eyeglasses, a library book about Frisbees, two cheapo notebooks and a pack of delicious spearmint Excel chewing gum, my stolen-and-presumably-lost-forever man purse also held an unpaid parking ticket.

"Crap," I thought, "what am I going to do about that?"

I phoned the police to ask.

"Oh, that's easy," the police said. "What's your plate number?"

"MRSULU," I said.

"Okay, I've got the ticket here," said the police. "Would you like to pay it now?"

"I still have to pay it?"

"Yes, butthole, you still have to pay it."

"Rats. Okay."

"That'll be 21 dollars."

"But the ticket is only 20."

"Service charge."

"Oh, come on. It's not like I sent back the wine to impress my dinner companions and you're actually inconvenienced, is it? It's your job to take calls from people like me and help us out. Cut me a little slack."

"Sir," the police said, "you can pay the service charge or you can not pay the service charge. But we have long memories and quick tempers. And we also have night vision goggles and comprehensive databases and kevlar vests and helmets and wicked fast cars. And tasers. Do not trifle with us."

"You have tasers?"

"Yes. Big ones with two batteries."

"Cool," I said. "Can I come over and play with one?"

"Sure thing," said the police. So I went over and we had a grand old time tasing each other in the head.

Posted by Bret at February 12, 2003 02:29 PM