lying mother fucker.

Morphine’s “Cure for Pain” belts out of my CD player as I drive down U.S. 70 into Morehead City. It’s raining out and very, very cold for this part of the world this time of the year. Temperatures are expected to hit the mid-20s tonight. The snow and ice, it appears, isn’t going to make it this far south and east.

Coming home from work every day, I hate this stretch of road. Especially when it’s raining. I can hardly see anything anyway. And the rain just leaves giant puddles in the roadway. I hit one, a deep one at 44 miles per hour. Right before the speed limit drops to 35. I don’t slow until I get out of the puddle. Down to 42. Still speeding, but just about where I sit every time I drive this road.

A guy sits in my blind spot. I glance down, 42 mph. He starts to pull ahead of me. Then right beside me. I glance down again. 43 mph. We take the turn where the cop always is. I think this a moment too late. Boom. There he is.

He pulls out. Lights on.

He gets behind the guy who was passing me. He slows down and gets behind me. Then the cop flares up and pulls beside me. Hits is siren once. I put my blinker on.

Fuck. I haven’t been pulled over for speeding since 1997. In a rental car. In Texas.

I park. The other guy parks way far away. The cop parks right behind me. Lights bright and flashing. He tells me to roll up my window. He goes over to the other car. “I said pull over there!” He yells at the driver.

The cop is about 6 foot 2. Weighs a buck sixty if that. He’s black. Has on sunglasses. It’s fucking night. In the winter. He’s got sunglasses on.

I wait. And wait.

Finally, he taps on my glass.

“Why were you in such a hurry? You were going over 50.”

“There’s no way I was going 50,” I said. Yeah, you’re not supposed to argue with what they say. But this is a lie. I never have gone over 50 on that road. I’ve lived here for almost eight months. Drive that road every, single day. Never gone over 50.

“Well, you were speeding.”

“You got me there. I looked at my speedometer all the time. The fastest I was going was 42, 43.”

“Oh,” he said, taking my license and registration. “Do you have any outstanding warrants?”

“Nope.”

I sit in my car. It’s starting to fog up and get cold. Fucking shit. He’s gonna ream me to help this fucking Podunk shithole I live in make enough money to keep the Christmas lights on all month long. Just read an article in the shitty newspaper I work for. Budget shortfalls for the county’s police and fire rescue. Coincidence?

The wait becomes 25 minutes. Fuck. I’m cold now. Not happy.

“I’m giving you a citation for speeding, sir,” he says in his monotone voice, no doubt taught to him in Kiddy Kop school I think to myself. “You’re court date is March 16. You do not have to go.”

“I will be going,” I think to myself. I look at the ticket. 50 mph in a 35. Fucking lying sack of shit. Cost of ticket: $171. I don’t have $171. I can’t even buy food this pay period. Let alone pay a fucking halfway bogus speeding ticket.

“Any questions,” he asks.

“Yeah, I really know I wasn’t going that fast,” I say. He gives me the “fuck you asshole, I could’ve said you were going 51, then it would be reckless driving” look. “I was speeding, but not that much. 42, 43 yes. Over 50? No way.”

“Well, sir, that’s what I put there. That’s what it is.”

Yep, that’s just how it is asshole. Protect and serve. Eat my ass.

He stays parked behind me while giving the other guy his ticket. Another 5 minutes I have to sit there. I’m angry now. And I don’t usually get angry anymore. It’s such a waste. But my dad’s bi-polar tendencies come out sometimes still. It’s genetic. And I can fight it, but if it wants to come out, the Hulk does what he wants.

The other cars peels out of the parking lot of the community college where we pulled over. I get up to 35 and stop accelerating. He’s way ahead of me. A guy is tailgating me. Now, I’ve got months and months of speed limit driving to look forward too on the way to work every day. 41 miles exactly. Monotony will set in.

I’m sure I’ll get a traffic school thing to get it reduced. Great. Can’t wait for my insurance to go up. Guess I won’t turn on the heat tonight. It’s 52 degrees inside at 9:45 p.m. Only going to get colder. The drunks are stumbling out of their cars in front of my house to go to the Shag bar. Where’s the cop now?

Just when things were so damn close to being cool, mentally and all, this shit happens. Another hole to flop down into. My savings are shrinking enough as it is. Thanks cop. You can suck my balls. They’ll be really small since that money was supposed to pay my heating bill.

(And yes, I know I was speeding. But a 6 or 7 mph over ticket ain’t $171. It’s $80. I looked it up. I don't mind paying for what I did. But that asshat lied to my face.)