Box

35

“Great gobs oF goose shit!” the cop shouts. “What the fuck do we have here?”

My first thought is to hide the wine, in case we’re out of the city limits. But I don’t see the wine.

“Don’t just lie there, tryin’ to coax the fillin’ outta your Twinkie!” he roars. “Sit the fuck up and roll down the window!”

I press the window button, but nothing happens.

It suddenly dawns on me the car isn’t running. I glance at the steering column.

The keys are gone.

As is Zander’s giant handbag.

I open the door.

“Get to your feet and lean against the car, maggot.”

I do as he says. He pats me down.

“Empty your pockets onto the roof.”

I reach into my pockets and realize they’re empty. I pull them out so he can see.

“Where’s your driver’s license?”

“Back pocket.”

“Reach back and pull it out.”

I do as he says.

He takes his time, but finally gives it back to me and says, “Does this look like Pee Wee Herman’s Fun House to you?”

“No sir.”

“What kind of doctor comes to the riverbank to pull his pud?”

“I wasn’t-”

“Are there any more of you? Please don’t tell me an army of New York doctors has chosen my beloved city to host a circle-jerk!”

“There was a girl.”

“A girl? I don’t see a girl. Is she in the trunk?”

“No sir.”

“You know what I see, Dr. Box?”

“What’s that, officer?”

“I see a peter-pumpin’ pecker-puller.”

“I bet you can’t say that five times,” I say.

“You better get the fuck outta my town, Doctor. Because if I catch you within five miles of a school yard I’ll bring you to room temperature before you can say hard-on!”

He gives me a long look.

“Got it, officer. Sorry.”

He shakes his head in disgust and leaves.

I wait five minutes until I’m sure he’s gone, then look around for the keys, give up, then head up the hill to find Zander.

“I’m not cleanin’ this mess up by myself,” she says.