Today the gov'ment fingered us, the interstate meatbooty-luggers. Travelling by boat from the secret channels of Vermont through the illustrious bowels of the Berkshire's, hitchin up in the ten-truck Canadian convoy on the Connecticut border, we were brought to a fruity stop by a tight-sashed statie, his red lights flashing behind us like a rebellious colony of hemorrhoids. We stuffed the jerky in our anuses as the cop approached our window, flashlight out. He checked our seatbelts. We joe bidend, eye twitch and everything, just like our daddies taught us. But guy didn't budge
"Step. Out."
I laughed. The rest of the convoy drove 2gears past us, but the statie's was fixed, as though seeing the trickle down my leg through my eyes.
Turned around, hands on the windows. My eyes tightened. The next thing I knew, I was 4 lbs lighter.
