So, I take my seat outside on the ‘don’t knife someone you’ll get fired' bench, just in time to witness a drug deal and a man sweeping the curb in his undies. I decided to stick with tighty whitey when I heard drug dealer A tell drug seeker B that he was fresh out..must have been a good weekend. Cheech (our favorite cop/crime dog, who took a lunch break during our latest car break-in report) rolls up to talk to the underwear sweeper. I started making bets with myself on whether or not he’d let the sweeper take his broom to cing-cing when I was suddenly distracted by them laughing and exchanging high-fives. After about 6 minutes, McGruff takes off in his fancy charger, with a new custom paint job I undoubtedly paid for in tickets last month, with not so much as a suggestion to put the mouse back in the house or a catchy ‘hugs not drugs’ limerick.
I guess it’s now legal to do illegal things as long as you’re bettering society in the process. Sure, you can be naked outside, as long as you’re helping the elderly cross the road or donating your lunch to the homeless. Next time I decide to drive on the left side of the road to full-fill my Paris dream, I’ll make sure I’m sewing missing eyes on dolls to send to kids in need.