The $1,000 Traffic Ticket

I got a $1,000 traffic ticket. In my latest dumb dream, that is.

So there I was in my dream, driving down a highway, when some turd in an ugly boxy sedan swerved right in front of me just as I was exiting the road. Then the guy just hit his brakes and slowed down to about 1 mph on the exit ramp. I wasn't surprised, because this is how most people in North Carolina drive. No, I wasn't surprised, but I did get pissed. So I floored the gas pedal and sped around the guy on the shoulder.

The next thing I know, a highway patrolman is behind me with his lights on. I pulled over. He walked up to my car to lecture me like all highway patrolmen do. If I had to do it all over again, I might be a highway patrolman so I could talk to other grown-ups like they're 6 years old. I'd walk up to their windows and say in my most condescending voice, "And why were we speeding today?" And they'd look at me and say, "Because we felt like it, numbnuts. Nice hair."

So after he pulled me over, I rolled down my window. He looked down at me and said, "And why were we speeding today?"

"Because I felt like it, numbnuts. Nice hair."

Then he handed me a ticket for $1,000. And my first thought was, Crap. Jodi and I might have to sell some of our valuable property to pay for this ticket. I wonder how much we can get for all of our leftover Halloween candy. This is the kind of stuff that goes through your brain when you have stupid dreams like mine.

I thought perhaps we could get $300 or so for our leftover Halloween candy, because Jodi bought way more than we needed this year. 

Most years Jodi and I try to avoid Halloween altogether. We either go out for the evening, or we turn off all of the lights at home, sit in the dark, and ignore the doorbell. But this year we decided to do the Halloween thing. So we made Jodi's niece come over and hand out candy for us.

When Jodi and her niece started to pour bags of candy into a big bowl, I had to intervene. I had to. They were doing it wrong. I said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing? You don't put the good candy in first! You don't put Snickers and Reese's in right away! Don't you guys know anything? You gotta put in all the crappy candy first. You put in the Almond Joys and the Three Musketeers and those disgusting orange peanut things. Hell, when I was growing up, nobody even gave out normal candy bars. You always got stuff like stale popcorn balls with hair sticking out of 'em. You don't bring out the A-list candy unless it's absolutely necessary!"

I really did say all of that, because I'm all about the kids. And Jodi and her niece agreed, so we put the good candy aside. (Actually I would have given a Snickers to Gwyneth, the cutest kid in the world, but she didn't come by this year. And we did have one really cute kid in an elephant costume come to the door. He was worth a Snickers. But really the bulk of the kids who came by were just crappy orange peanut quality kids.)

Fortunately, it began to rain harder and harder as the evening progressed, and it wasn't long before the trick-or-treaters slowed to a trickle. So I said, "C'mon, let's close it down!" So I ran around switching off lights, and I grabbed the good candy and sprinted to the back of the house.

That's why we have $300 worth of leftover Halloween candy. And that's what was on my mind while I had my stupid dream about the $1,000 traffic ticket.

After the highway patrolman handed me the ticket, he made me follow him about a hundred yards to a tiny building on the side of the highway. Apparently this was some kind of ticket processing center. We walked into the building and some clerks began working on my traffic ticket, doing whatever traffic ticket clerks do. As I waited, the patrolman began giving me a big chamber-of-commerce-type presentation about the upcoming "Prairie Dog Days Festival," and he said I really should attend and support my community. Of course, I told him I'd attend. I mean, I had to. I wasn't gonna risk getting another $1,000 ticket, even though it doesn't make sense to have "Prairie Dog Days" in North Carolina, since there are no prairies or prairie dogs in this state. Just dog fights and Waffle Houses.

And while the patrolman is giving me this presentation, I look out the window behind him and there's a big 27-car pileup happening just yards away from the building. The patrol guy looks over his shoulder and sees the cars crashing and burning, but he just turns back to me and keeps talking about the "Prairie Dog Days Festival." And I was thinking, Man, I wish you would shut up so I could wake up and eat a Halloween Snickers for breakfast.

I told you I have stupid dreams.

Can you believe you wasted the last 5 minutes of your life reading this?