Is it the fact
that it appears to be an unspoken rule that every man must display his butt crack? And that the aforementioned butt crack must
be abundantly hairy? Extra points if
that’s the only hair he has.
Perhaps it’s the
fact that the only cosmetics available in the local drugstore are frosted pink
lipstick and bright blue eyeshadow.
I’ve emailed
every police officer I know in the nearby metropolitan area (and I do happen to
know quite a few cops out this way, having worked with them before) and invited
them to come and arrest me for the murder of Jimmy Hoffa – I told them I buried
him under the tomato plants and provided almost pornographic details of the
killing – but not one of them took me seriously. Jeez: I guess this is
what comes of having a reputation for being Tough on Crime.
Perhaps if I
knocked over a Tim Horton’s, I might get their attention.
“Well Officer,
she was a redhead, about 5’5”, bony and really desperate looking. After she
went for the Timbits, I got the impression she’d stop at nothing. She staggered off in the direction of the
401, shaking her fist and shouting “Never again, by God! Never again!” Wait – I think that’s her hitch-hiking, with
the big sign around her neck that says “Mexico” on it.”
I suppose I
could try to get into the spirit of the place and take up bingo or line dancing
or drinking or Jesus or what appears to be the most popular pastime for the
local miscreants: window breaking
Coming from
Toronto, where just the other day, somebody was shot dead in broad daylight on
the street (still a shocking event in Canada), this place is hardly a hotbed of
criminal activity. Although I’ve been
walking about 50 km a day, I’ve yet to stumble across any of the grow ops I
know damn well are flourishing around these parts. This is a crying shame, as I suspect it’s the only thing that
would make this place even remotely bearable.
I’ve been
amusing the bitches by transcribing the local “Police Blotter” that comes in
the local rag. Brace yourselves for
tales of the Naked City. And I quote –
really – these are ACTUAL excerpts:
"August 7
A rock was thrown through the office window of St. Andrew's Church.
Nothing was damaged or taken.
A vehicle was struck while parked on the west side of Matchette Road. The
mirror of the driver's side door was smashed.
Police responded to a noise complaint on Morton Drive. The homeowner was
spoken to and issued a Provincial Offences Notice with respect to amplified and
excessive noise.
August 8
Police received a mischief report -- a brick was thrown through the front
window of a business on Front Road.
Officers dealt with several by-law complaints with respect to noise
complaints. Citizens are advised that the noise by-law covers
unreasonable noise at any time. Please respect your neighbours.
August 9
A Morton Drive business requested police attend for two men in a pickup truck
they had locked in their fenced in area of the property. The men had
taken bags of pop cans from the recycle bins without permission. The
business owner did not want the men charged with theft but wanted them told not
to return to the property. The men returned the cans and were issued
cautions for Trespassing.
Police received a report of a rear car window smashed overnight
on Michigan Avenue.
August 12
At about 12:30 am, Police received a report of two males cutting a street name
sign down on Martin Lane. Officers responded to the area but were unable
to locate the suspects. A hacksaw was found at the scene. Both
suspects are described as white males wearing white shirts. Investigation
is continuing.
August 13
Police received information regarding youths on Talbot Road throwing golf balls
at moving vehicles. An officer was in the area (note to Heartless Bitches:
only because there's a Tim Horton's donut shop nearby) and observed three males
in the ditch at that intersection. The three males were arrested for
mischief and trespassing at night. One of the males was a youth.
August 14
Police are investigating after unknown suspects smashed the front door of
Boppers Cafe. It appears the suspects threw a rock at the front door,
which smashed the outer pane, then struck the aluminium doorframe and landed on
the sidewalk. Damage is approximately $500. Investigation is
continuing.
So here’s the
Plan. I’ve decided that since I can’t
drive, there’s no bus service that can get me out of town and none of my
friends from the nearby larger city will arrest me for murder and take me away,
I’m going to become Public Enemy Number One around these parts.
At this point,
twenty to life in the Big House would be eminently preferable to One More
Minute out here.
This shouldn’t
be difficult.
I’m thinking
that first I’ll hunt down that Martin guy who took the sign on August 12 and
break all his windows while screaming loud enough to disturb the
neighbours. I’ll swing by St. Andrews
and kick the door a few times before snatching some empty pop cans that don’t
belong to me. Then I’ll run through
the streets howling like a madwoman, hurling golfballs wildly at the citizenry
while I make my escape. If there’s
time, I’ll pee in the municipal pool for good measure.
Ooh, they better
come and get me quick – I might completely lose control. If Martin puts up a fight, I can see it
getting ugly. I might grab him by the
mullet and force his Bryan Adams Greatest Hits cassette down his throat. His “No Fat Chicks” t-shirt could get torn
in the fray. There’s just no telling
what I’m capable of at this point.
Come and get me,
coppers. You’re not taking me
alive. I’ve got nothing to lose at this
point.
Till next time,
Morrigan
