Check Stop
We were detained around midnight for suspicion of poetry. One look inside the car and the cop asked,
“Have you heard or recited any poetry this evening, sir?”
“I think I heard a poem and I may have recited a line or two.”
Pale light from a lone street light cast a long shadow across his chiselled jaw. “A line or two?”
“Yes sir.”
“How many lines?”
“Actually, I recited two poems, but they were short and only one per hour.”
He leaned in through the window and sniffed the air. “Two entire poems?”
“Yes sir.”
“And how long ago did you utter these alleged lines of poetry, sir?”
“I think two hours ago or maybe three. But I waited at least an hour after the last poem before I operated a vehicle.”
He withdrew his nose and straightened up. “Well, sir, since you admit you have recited poetry this evening and because you are showing some clear indicators of the influence of literature, I demand that you take a poetalyser test.”
“I’m innocent.”
“That’s what everyone says. But you are showing indicators. It could be because you are a liberal. Or you could be impaired by poetry.”
“Well,” I said, “I might be a liberal.”
“And what about your friend there, is he a poet, too?”
“Him?” I looked at the Poet Laureate sitting next to me. “ Hell no. He’s no poet!”
“He is showing indicators too.”
“What is a poetry indicator?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss it, sir. But if you refuse the test I will charge you under the Authoritarian Nimrod Act with ‘Refusing to Comply with a Tyrant.’”
“OK fine.”
“First of all, sir, I need you to stand with your hands on the vehicle. Do you have in your pockets any pencils or note pads?”
“I have a pen in my shirt pocket.”
“Don’t touch it. I will remove it. Do you have any recording devises or anything that might utter a poem?”
“Utter a poem?”
“Yes. Utter a poem.”
“My cell phone. You just never know when some random poet might call and start to utter.”
“OK, I’ll take that, too. Now, I want you to get into my soundproof, influence proof, squad car here and I will explain to you how the poetalyser works. If you refuse I will charge you with…”
“The Nimrod Act”
“That’s right. I will hold the microphone and you will speak into it clearly and melodically with gusto.”
“How much gusto?”
“Great gusto!”
“Okay, what should I say?”
“Its your neck, buddy.”
“How about Bukowski?”
“Who?”
“Bukowski. A great poet and notorious drunk.”
“I am not concerned with alcohol consumption.”
“OK, um, “just then Faulkner came staggering in…”
“Who?”
“Faulkner.”
“Who’s he?”
“Another writer.”
“A poet?”
“No. He wrote fiction.”
“OK, go on then.”
“‘just then Faulkner came staggering in…’”
“Louder!”
“FAULKNER CAME STAGGERING IN AND FOUND THE WHISKEY…”
“With gusto!”
“… CAME STAGGARING IN AND FOUND THE WHISKEY IN THE CUPBOARD …”
“YOU CALL THAT A POEM?”
“Of course.”
“THAT’S NOT A DAMN POEM!”
“I’m not finished yet.”
“WELL GET ON WITH IT!”
“ ‘A TERRIBLE PERSON,’ SAID MY MOTHER. THEN SHE GOT UP AND PEEKED OUT ON THE PORCH.”
“WHERE ARE THE RHYMES? IT HAS TO RHYME!”
“No it doesn’t.”
He glared at me with fire in his eyes. “THAT’S STRIKE TWO, MISTER!”
“What?”
“Strike three and you’re out. I will charge you with refusal to comply under the Authoritarian Nimrod Act…”
“JACK AND JILL WENT UP THE HILL TO FETCH A PAIL OF WATER. JACK FELL DOWN AND BROKE HIS CROWN AND JILL CAME TUMBLING AFTER.”
“I KNEW IT!” YOU ARE UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF POETRY!”
“That poem sucks.”
“Well, you blew a 12.”
“What does that mean?”
“80 is the limit. If you score 80 I give you a frontal lobotomy. If you score 50 I just kick your head in and send you home.”
“I told you I was innocent.”
“Yea, lucky for you, you’re no poet. But you are definitely under some influence, so I would watch it if I were you.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Go home and watch TV.”
“Good idea.”
“And be careful out there.”
Seriously, I liked it a lot. I do have sort of a pet peeve in that I like for the protagonist, at least on short fiction, to have a name. That's your choice, though you might have missed a jibe, the cop making some snarky comment about his wimpy name. That's just a nit. You did misspell "staggering" when it was shouted. Also, the "Okay, um...," don't think you need another (") before "just." Good job.
I love it.
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