True Story©... Get Out Of Jail Free!

 

Life is pretty boring lately…
I say that to say that there is plenty going on but most of it is pretty mundane “adulting” shit.  I guess one could see how that might mean things are pretty okay but knowing/observing how my brain works, one could ALSO see the need for some excitement.  I mean, I know spring is right around the corner and will bring with it constant yard work and sundresses (and the cleavage that comes with those), but right now is right now.

As I reached the end of my chain, my phone rings – my PERSONAL phone – and I kind of have to answer that when it rings for reasons I don’t need to get into right here and now.

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Phillip, it’s me…”

Me: “Sir, there are like eight billion people on this planet.”

Caller: “Detective Woodpe–… fuck–…  SHIT!!!  Detective Woodcock.”

Me: “Naughty, naughty there, detective Woodpenis, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Woodpenis: “My mother is deceased.”

Me: “And you’re sitting around kissing on her instead of burying her?  Weirdo!”

Woodpenis: “Stop it.”

Me: “What’s up?”

Woodpenis: “I got the job.”

Me: “I thought you HAD the job, I haven’t heard from you much since Christmas.”

Woodpenis: “They hinted positively and made the offer.”

Me: “… but you didn’t have a start date yet.”

Woodpenis: “Right…  Well now I have all the onboarding paperwork in and I am training my replacement here.  I am gonna blow this taco stand in about a month.”

Me: “Congratulations.”

Woodpenis: “Thank you…  And thank you for what you did to–…”

Me: “…  I NEED A FAVOR!”

Woodpenis: “A favor?”

Me: “Yeah man…  I helped you solve some of the cases that have very clearly made your career over the past year or so, I figure a lil favor is the least I could ask for.”

Woodpenis: “It depends on what kind of favor you need.”

Me: “You know those ‘friends of the program’ cards y’all give to close friends and family members to help them not get smoked at roadside by another cop?”

Woodpenis: “PBA cards?  Yeah, I am aware.”

Me: “Do they expire if you personally leave the deportment?”

Woodpenis: “I don’t think they do.”

Me: “I’mma need one of those, homie.”

Woodpenis: “But why?”

Me: “Look…  I know you know I am an upstanding citizen, but we both also know that I happen to fit the generic description.  I have enjoyed not having to go outside and thus avoiding situations, but–…”

Woodpenis: “…  you plan on breaking some laws in my wake?”

Me: “Detective Woodpenis, I am shocked and appalled that you might suggest such a thing.”

Woodpenis: “I’m just saying, you have had your ass almost literally in a sling damn near monthly since we met and I have happened to have needed you as a ‘useful nuisance’ each time thus far.”

Me: “Well who is taking your place, then.”

Woodpenis: “This new guy…  Total damned boyscout, I highly doubt –…
… shit, I’ll score you a card.”

Me: “Awesome, thanks.”

Woodpenis: “I’ll bring it by your house Tuesday morning.”

Me: “Bet”

True to his word, he came through Tuesday morning right as I was on my first break and therefore edging in the front lawn with the card.  On it was his name/rank/location and union number, with my name/address and phone number.  He made a point of explaining to me to make sure it is ALWAYS in the exact same place as my driver’s license and fully visible to any officer I may interact with, like even before my photo ID is.  Apparently their read on situations draws their eyes and attention to such things.
He also told me that this is not a carte blanche pass for me to commit all brands of fuckery about the countryside and expect no repercussions of it.  Or something like that, I was just stoked to have the card.

First order of business with my Get Out of Jail Free Card was to decide specifically which crimes could be committed without arousing the interest of the federals, or interpol or anyone beyond the reach of the NCPBA.
First thing’s first, let's put this thing to the test…
I hopped in the car, dropped $20 in the tank and did twenty OVER the speed limit everywhere I went, I didn’t signal lane changes and treated coming to a full stop at signs as if it was a sugtgestion and not a law.
After about an hour of this fuckery, I had the attention of a policeman who of course stopped me.

Cop: “License and registration pl–…”

I’d already had them ready, hanging out the window with the PBA card visible on top of both.

Cop: “… not your first rodeo, I take it?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir?”

Cop: “Where’d you get this.”

Me: “Good friend of the program, it has my name on…  See?”

Cop: “I do.”

Me: “So what do we do from here?”

Cop: “Look, I’ll run your license and registration, give me a minute.”

Me: “Fine.”

Now I am not sitting on any warrants or unpaid fines or anything, so in about three minutes he was back…

Cop: “Look, I’ll let you slide with a warning this time, but 70 in a 45? I SHOULD have your license and tow the car right now.”

Me: “Thank you sir, sorry sir.”

And like that, the interaction was over!  I ain’t e’em get shot on the side of the road for the weapon I don’t have but the cop clearly saw him reach for!

There HAS to be more that I can do with this thing…

I went home and got on BookFace and noticed the normal Tax Time requests in the local group: cheap cars, privately-owned rental property and stuff like that.  The one that stuck out to me was a girl looking to “install” wigs outside of her home and looking for a small rental space to do so.
On my walks, I pass by this old mechanic’s shop that appears to have been abandoned before the two years I have been walking by it.  Never any activity, there is no grass to cut or maintain, the windows are dusty as hell and the sign blew apart months ago.  Weird, though, is that there is somehow STILL one light on in the place despite no evidence of anyone setting foot in it.  I came back after dinner one night and jimmied my way inside and found that in addition to power, it also had water.

I went back home onto The BookFace and–…
Wait, it should be said that I have ZERO clue what the hell they’re talking about when they say “install” a wig, but as a technically able individual, I assumed it to mean some kind of mechanical doings for which an old automotive shop would be perfect for.  I told her that I would have an old shop cleaned and ready to roll for whatever she needed the space for within four days, she would need first and last month’s rent and to provide her own washbowl and could be in within days.

Do I OWN this shop?  No I do not…
Do I KNOW who owns this shop?  Of course I do not.

Do I have the legal rights to rent this space out?  See above.
Do I GIVE a shit?  Also, see above.

In my mind, I can use squatters rights for as long as I can be seen getting away with this and when someone calls the law on me for trespassing and illegally renting out space that doesn’t belong to me, I can flash my Get Out of Jail Free card and all will be fine.

Thanks, Woodpenis, you have newly emboldened (the ‘alleged’) Moe Phillips and he got some shit to work out.