Disclaimer: I seriously doubt this is the way it happened, but who knows (okay, Missy does<g>). Names were omitted to protect the innocent from getting smacked. Bubble wrap was harmed during the writing of this account, but it died a valiant death.

Bubble Wrap Attack

By TaraKerry


(The following is from an email I got from a friend who’s a police officer in Beverly Hills. I really didn’t give it much thought until I read Missy’s post on the pack list. I thought I’d share it with you.)

I was on cruising the streets in my patrol car when I turned onto a side street and ended up behind an SUV. I was busy trying to decide where to grab lunch, and wasn’t really paying attention, when a piece of bubble wrap suddenly affixed itself to my windshield.

Now I have nothing against bubble wrap, I actually recognize all its different uses, but I didn’t think the residents of Beverly Hills would appreciate pieces of it littering their streets, they’re funny that way.

I peered past the bubble wrap, which was now lodged under one of my wipers, and saw another piece flutter out the side window of the SUV I was following. I had no choice but to pull the vehicle over and cite them for littering, or at least see what their story was.

Activating the warning lights on my patrol unit, I waited for the vehicle to pull over. When, after waiting a few minutes, the driver did not do so, I sounded the siren to get their attention. The SUV eventually pulled over to the curb and I angled in behind them.

I exited my car and walked slowly towards the driver side of the SUV. Disco music was pouring loudly from the open windows, no wonder they didn’t hear the siren right away. I unconsciously started humming along with "I Will Survive" as I approached the window.

The driver was female, and had brown, curly hair that came just above the top of her shoulders and wore glasses. "Ma’am, are you aware that you’re littering?"

"No, I wasn’t." She looked into the back seat. "Would you know anything about that?"

There was a dark haired woman back there. The passenger pulled her sunglasses down a little, and I caught a glimpse of brown eyes that sent a shiver down my back. Music from "The Omen" began playing in my head, and I felt an instinctive need to cross myself.

"Hey, do you think it’s easy cutting through this tape with a dive knife?" Came the reply in a southern drawl. "I’m more worried about cutting off a finger than trying to keep pieces of dead bubble wrap from escaping. Do you realize how a missing finger would effect my smacking ability?"

At the mention of smacking, I took a step back just in case this woman thought she was Zsa Zsa Gabor or something. "Ma’am, would you please give me the knife and explain to me what’s going on here."

I’d taken the proffered knife, more afraid of the hand giving it to me than the blade; those nails looked like they could do some damage. Ten minutes later I had a story, or at least parts of one, I was kind of distracted by the passenger flexing her hand as though she was trying to keep from smacking something or someone. All I remember is it involved poster sized prints of characters from Xena, boy that Gabrielle sure is a cutie, an auction, and the need to remove the bubble wrap to inspect the items.

Handing the knife back to the driver, I told the women if they kept the bubble wrap shreds inside the vehicle, I wouldn’t write them a ticket for littering. They agreed, and I bid them a good day.

As I strolled back to my patrol car, I heard the power windows on the SUV go up, and the sound of Gloria Gaynor assaulted my ears again as the engine started. Now I was going to have that song stuck in my head for the rest of the day. Oh well, it could have been worse, it could have been that Joxer the Mighty song.

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