“Get out of the car! Put your hands where I can see them!” Officer Balls shouted in a southern accent. The driver could see his own reflection in the policeman’s silver sunglasses and noticed a slight cowlick in his messy brown hair. He reached up to smooth it down.
Hold still you bastard!” Officer Balls reached for his gun and when the driver saw this he cringed and froze in place. “I am the law. Do what I say, or I’ll turn your brains into a strawberry margarita. Now get out of the car, slowly.”
The driver obeyed him and got out of his beat-up Ford Shitbox. “Do I show you my license? Registration?” He stared at Balls, who stood there like he was made of stone, remaining silent. “Excuse me? Why did you pull me over?” Because of the officer’s sunglasses, his eyes weren’t visible, adding to the driver’s absurd impression that the policeman had turned into a statue. After a few minutes of standing around awkwardly, he felt compelled to see if Balls was still human. He walked up to him and waved a hand in his face. ‘Hello? Are you okay?”
Suddenly, Officer Balls snapped back to life and shoved the driver away so hard that he fell. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He scolded. “Why are you falling down? Are you drunk?”
The driver was so startled he had trouble speaking. So he just shook his head. His elbows were bleeding badly from being scraped on the asphalt. Officer Balls strolled up to him, pulled a pint of whiskey out of his back pocket, and casually poured half of it out on the driver’s head, who then watched as Officer Balls chugged the rest of it like it was water. Balls wiped his mouth with his black sleeve. “You’re drunk,” he declared.
“No I’m not, the driver shot back. “You’ve been extremely rude to me, sir. I don’t appreciate being shove d about and having things spilled on me.”
“Well I don’t appreciate your face. Stand up boy. We’ll see if you’re drunk or not.” The driver got up and leered defiantly at Officer Balls, who was subtly swaying back and forth. “Spin around ten times, then walk in a straight line,” Officer Balls ordered.
“That’s not a fair test! I’ll be too dizzy to walk straight,” the driver whined. Balls nodded as though he understood, then in one fluid motion pulled out his tazer, pointed it at the driver’s balls, and pulled the trigger, shooting two hooks out. They stabbed through the driver’s jeans and caught on his sack and 50,000 volts of electricity shot through the unfortunate man’s genitals. He felled to the ground and squirmed like a worm. Officer Balls retracted the hooks and put the tazer back on his belt.
“That’s why they call me Officer Balls,” he said with a grin. “You’re gonna do what I say now, ain’t ya boy?” The driver groaned pathetically, clutching at his severely damaged testicles. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Balls walked back to his car, giving the driver time to recover, and returned with a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Now the driver was sitting up, his back against his Ford Shitbox.
“You got a girlfriend, son? You wanna be a daddy some day?” The driver nodded. There were tears rolling down his cheeks.
“What do you want from me?” He said fearfully.
“I’m just trying to do my job, son. It’s imperative that I keep intoxicated drivers off the road. Since you won’t do my walking test, I suppose I’ll have to see how you drive first-hand. Get in the car, boy. We’re going for a ride.”
Posted in: Shortened Stories