Coppin it Sweet

I keep a shovel in my bathroom to chuck my makeup on, it’s thick and I don’t mess about. No point in being half arsed with something. Why is ‘tinted moisturiser’ even a thing? We’re not here to fuck spiders, lets cover up the lines, blemishes and uneven skin tone and get it done properly. Lot’s of people tell me; ‘Wow, makeup really suits you’! Thanks you little passive aggressive douches.

But yes, it is true. I once came home to see my family without makeup on and the whole night all I got was, ‘Are you sure you’re alright love? You don’t look well’.

My hairs all curled and drowned in Vegan hairspray. Push up bra is in full swing, you know its working when it actually hurts and your tits touch your chin when you look down. When did my Boob’s actually become this flexible? God I hate getting older.

Anyway’s, I’m all tarted up, I have a beautiful dress on and I’m ready to go for a Sunday cruise with Ruby. steering-wheel-close-up

Like a lot of Aussies, I tend not to put my seatbelt on until I’m halfway down the road. It’s just a thing, a ritual if you will, not to put it on straight away. I get to the end of the road with Ruby putting along, I haven’t warmed her up enough so I’ll have to take it easy.

I’m about to turn left when a feeling of unease washes over me. Like the moment before a tiger strikes, when the antelope looks up and sniffs the air. The air doesn’t seem quite right this morning. As I’m analysing this, the suburban tiger presents himself, in the form of a shiny red cop car. As I watch him crawling along the little street in front of me, I see him looking directly where my seat belt should be. Poor bugger, he was looking for a seatbelt and all he got was an eyeful of unnatural pushed up tit meat.

Prickles happen all over my body ‘Fuck my fucking seatbelt isn’t on’, I think to myself.

I keep my cool and turn left slowly, pretending not to notice him. I begin whispering my mantra’s while keeping an eye on him in the rear view mirror ‘please don’t turn around, please don’t turn around, c’mon keep driving’. Once the back of Ruby is to the cop car, I ever so gently, inconspicuously reach for my seatbelt and slowly drag it over my shoulder. I keep looking forward the whole time, so it doesn’t look too obvious. I can feel his eyes on me as I click the belt in with one hand, now I feel a bit better it’s on. I go over what I’ll say in my head, ‘ I don’t know what your talking about I’ve had it on the whole time officer’. As I approach the roundabout I think to myself, ‘I should be ok’.

The copper keeps on driving in the opposite direction. Yes! Maybe he thought it was such an old car that it’s not meant to have seat belts. Maybe he liked my boobies and just kept going. Maybe he didn’t even notice and I was overreacting. Did I just imagine him looking at me? Probably. ‘Geez I’m good’, I think to myself as I potter along.

Then, out of nowhere, the coppa pops the biggest U banger I have ever seen and starts coming at me.

‘Shit, shit, shit, shit’, the prickles happen again as my body goes into flight or fight mode. ‘Just keep going along, it will be fine, he can’t prove anything’. Then I start panicking as he gets closer, ‘but what if he can?’…I think about the fine for not wearing a seatbelt, ‘isn’t it like three hundred bucks’?

Yep, nup, stuff that, I’m outta here.

I chuck my foot down on the accelerator and Ruby chokes and starts cutting out. ‘Fuck me cmon!’ This is my fault…should’ve warmed her up properly, plus her carbi’s filthier than my mouth after a few beers. I’ve been meaning to clean and tune it for months now, but my procrastinating got in the way. Wished I bloody had of now.

I can save it, I can save it ‘COME ON RUBY YOU WHORE!’ I shout at her.

She splutters, ‘b-blurt’…. ‘b-b-blluuurt’…. then she catches on ‘B-B-BBBBLLEEERRRRRTTTT!’

Now we’re in business.

Ruby accelerates as fast as she can as we approach the round about, I make a decision to loose him through the streets. Before we hook a mad left, I check the rear-view mirror to see if I was just imagining things.

Nup, he’s definitely on me about 50 meters away, there’s no mistaking it. I’ve gotta commit to this now.

As we turn the corner and I loose visual on the cop car, I start speeding up. Ruby’s speedo is in miles and the needle wavers, I look down to see it wavering arospeedound 40 miles. I am so bloody wired right now, my pupils must each be the size of a 20 cent piece.

Like an antelope escaping from a tiger, I gotta take as many turns as I can to try and loose him. I fang a left down a random avenue and then a right down the street that runs off that. I’m checking my mirrors the whole time to see if he has caught up. He hasn’t.

After a few more swift turns, I start to feel a sense of ease, so I slow down. Jesus that all happened so fast, maybe 40 seconds for the whole ‘getaway’ start to finish. I feel a little shaky and my mouth is as dry as a nun’s nasty. I make sure the coast is clear and find a shady place to park up along the quiet street. Once I calm down, I smile and talk to Ruby ‘We did it you brilliant old girl!’ I give her a pat on the dash board, Ruby loves that.

I’ll have you know I’m not one for breaking the law. I’ve had a few speeding and parking fines, but nothing bad. I’m a good girl, I’m still kinda shocked at my decision to flee. Where the hell did that come from? I don’t even care, I’m not even going to try and analyse it – I just feel so brilliant right now!

I am a maverick renegade! I am Indiana freakin Jones! I have just escaped the PoPo… saved myself a wad of cash and got a little kick out of it as well. I sit praising myself in the car for a good ten minutes before I continue on with my merry Sunday drive. I make up a rap song as I drive back along the road I originally pulled out on. I tend to do this whenever I accomplish something great.

“Ruby and Sheila are so good,

we escaped the police in the hood,

we are so hot and bad ass,

two girls with lots of class”

In hind sight it probably would have been wise to just go home, park up and thank my lucky stars I got away with it.

But no.

Sheila had to gloat.

Sheila has to be cocky.

Sheila now thinks she is invincible.

Sheila looks in her rear-view mirror and see’s a dirty red Holden.

SHIT.

‘WOOP! WOOP!’ The lights flash on and I pull over. I feel sick.

Why do they always take their sweet arse time to come over to the window? I analyse him as he stalks over to Ruby. This guy is middle aged, tall with a stern ‘don’t fuck with me’ kinda face. Like Clint Eastwood with a hangover. I already realise I can’t pull the whole ‘I’m just a girl hehehe’ act with this one.

Clint comes over to the window, I get ready to answer questions with the well rehearsed plan in my head. Thank god for all those years of Helen O’Grady’s Drama Academy.

“My names Officer Clint, I have a recording device on my person and your also being filmed from my vehicle, anything you say will be recorded and can be used at a later date do you understand?”

Jesus this guy does not mess around. I switch plans and channel my inner lawyer, going into defence mode.

“Yes I understand” I reply.

“This is a breath analysis test, count to 6 into this device, have you had anything to drink today?”

“No” I answer as the breatho device is put towards my face, “One, two, three, four, five, six”.

It comes back clear and Clint walks away with my licence to analyse in his car. ‘We’ll’, I think to myself, ‘Maybe I’m gunna come outta this ok after all’. I’m surprisingly calm, after a good ten minutes Clint comes back and leans near the window. The adrenaline of the chase seems to have heightened my senses, his breath smells like McDonald’s sweet n sour sauce. Looking at his face more closely now, he reminds me of the bad guy out of Terminator 2, the T-1000.

His voice is just as stern and robot like as he asks, “What are you out and about for today?”

Of course I  match his voice and become completely someone else as I answer in lawyer mode, “Just going for a Sunday drive around the suburbs”.

Then the C-1000 drops bombs when he says, “Why are you driving around in an unregistered car?”

What?

What the hell did this shitty Clint Eastwood Terminator bad guy lookin mother fucker just say? I’m out of rego? When the shit was that due? I keep a tidy face and answer, “I am unaware that this car is unregistered”.

I keep trying to think of the last time I paid my rego and I can’t remember, which isn’t a good sign.

Officer Clint-1000 has his final words “It has been out of rego for six months, I can see from your records you’ve moved around quite a bit. I’m issuing you with two fines today, driving an unregistered vehicle on the road and using an uninsured motor vehicle on the road”.

I make a decision to cop it sweet, no point arguing, the C-1000 has made up his mind and there’s no getting out of it. Plus, I really don’t wanna push it, he might just be letting the whole seat belt thing go.

“Okay” I  say, as I take the fines. I look down the bottom of the first fine in the amount due box, 650 dollars! What the holey hell? I take a peek at the other one, 650 dollars as well!

Nup, get stuffed this is a wrought. I can’t help it, I fall out of Lawyer mode and go into shocked Sheila mode.

“Oh my gawd! This fine is massive”! I say about ten optics higher than I was talking before. “I really didn’t know it was unregistered!” I squeal, looking at his expressionless face.

The C-1000 cracks a slight smile, “If it was a few weeks fair enough, but it’s been over six months. I haven’t ticketed ya for not wearing your seatbelt and if ya decide to drive your unregistered car home I won’t pull you over again for it”

Well.

I say “thank you”, shut my mouth and drive home. Turns out Clint was actually a good bloke.

Thirteen. Hundred. Dollars. Plus the cost of registration means I’m out of pocket a dick tin of cash. That’ll teach me to sort my shit out and not procrastinate anymore. In fact I think I’ll clean out Ruby’s carbi when I get home. After I do the washing. Oh and I have to call dad….and feed the cat, yeah I’ll get around to it tomorrow.

lauren-squatting
   Just me havin a laugh with ol’ Rubes

 

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