manofyourdream
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2014
Marcus Dean, age 48, had been tuning out the chatter on his police dispatch for nearly an hour. It had been a grinding day and he had to pull the night shift to boot. He picked this back-road path since it required the least amount of work and tended to nab him at least one drunk or speeder each time he staked it out.
He’d popped one of the pills from his collection of pharmaceuticals he’d confiscated from arrests when he’d started his watch, and it was slowly wearing off. He contemplated taking another to see what the mixture would do for him, until he saw the faint glow of approaching headlights. His police cruiser was parked behind an old and dilapidated ground-mounted billboard sign, which in the dark was all but impossible to distinguish.
As the car drove by, the radar gun on his dash beeped and read “50”. Ten miles per hour over the all-but-nonexistent speed limit for the back roads. Since the nearest speed sign had fallen over a few weeks back it was all the easier to nab drivers on this road.
He illuminated his blue and red lights and punched his cruiser into gear and chased down the car, hitting a few notes on his siren until the car slowed down and pulled over. During his chase, what he did notice was that it wasn’t the speeding that was much of a problem, but the way the car swirled on the road. Marcus had nothing to lose. If the driver was okay upon pulling over, he would just let him/her go. If not, he was one ticket down in his monthly quota, so why not! He pulled over behind the fancy car, wondering if it’s some rich old dude…them old men had nothing better to do than to waste money on a piece of shit cars. Such as the one that was pulled over in the front. He finally stepped out, his hand on the gun that was in its holster, making his way towards the passenger side of the car before he knocked on the window, “Lower down your windows please.” He spoke in his manly tone of voice.
He’d popped one of the pills from his collection of pharmaceuticals he’d confiscated from arrests when he’d started his watch, and it was slowly wearing off. He contemplated taking another to see what the mixture would do for him, until he saw the faint glow of approaching headlights. His police cruiser was parked behind an old and dilapidated ground-mounted billboard sign, which in the dark was all but impossible to distinguish.
As the car drove by, the radar gun on his dash beeped and read “50”. Ten miles per hour over the all-but-nonexistent speed limit for the back roads. Since the nearest speed sign had fallen over a few weeks back it was all the easier to nab drivers on this road.
He illuminated his blue and red lights and punched his cruiser into gear and chased down the car, hitting a few notes on his siren until the car slowed down and pulled over. During his chase, what he did notice was that it wasn’t the speeding that was much of a problem, but the way the car swirled on the road. Marcus had nothing to lose. If the driver was okay upon pulling over, he would just let him/her go. If not, he was one ticket down in his monthly quota, so why not! He pulled over behind the fancy car, wondering if it’s some rich old dude…them old men had nothing better to do than to waste money on a piece of shit cars. Such as the one that was pulled over in the front. He finally stepped out, his hand on the gun that was in its holster, making his way towards the passenger side of the car before he knocked on the window, “Lower down your windows please.” He spoke in his manly tone of voice.