Post by AshHavynn on Jul 10, 2011 10:30:34 GMT -5
((herp a derp I'm gonna post TWO YEARS LATER.))
Some small, hollow bird cage later, Jarrett could hear the footsteps echoing towards him. He always hated the tiny roadside police stations--not prisons, or institutions, but small, quiet buildings characterized by the sound of typing on computers and hushed phone conversations, officers chewing the fat and laughing fatly from the other side of the building. One or two little rink-a-dink jail cells for over-nighters and done-me-wrongs. It was so sterile and insincere; he'd be out by 9 in the morning.
"Poneewass." Oh jesus crap.
"Yes, sir," the offender offered in his best military response voice--simply a louder, more obnoxious affectation than what he had been groomed to provide authority during school. It was almost comical, and he already knew he wasn't going to be taken seriously.
"Do you remember court order of 'round oh, two months ago?" Such a sweet, innocent chime to antagonize the boy.
"Two months ago? Aww, it's been that long already, George? I don't come down and visit you guys near half often eno--"
"Can it, boy, I said, do you remember court orders?"
"No." Law enforcement never has a sense of humor.
"Judge said, she said 'you don't get your act together, you come back round again, it's gonna be jail time."
Oh, so what? OOOOOH, JAIL TIME, JESUS NO. "Well, hell, bro, it looks like I done goofed."
"See now, and that's where you're wrong, son, see I don't like to see good men with the potential to be upstanding members of society get put away." He leaned in, sealing the suspicion that the entire last sentence was a load of bullshit. "See, boy I think we can make a deal. You keep out from under foot and I keep you out the slammer."
Wow, this guy is a joke. "That sounds pretty sweet, dudebro, I--"
"You shut your mouth I ain't done talking at ya." Uh ok. "Now listen. It seems to me like you don't have a proper head on your shoulders, probably count a broken family or childhood abuse or what have ya and I feel sorry for you. I'm gonna get you the help that you need, boy."
"What exactly the fuck are you talking about."
"Watch your language. Now you listen up. I'm gonna start calling around, find you a good ther-a-pist. And you're gonna go to ther-a-py. You got that? I'm gonna have em log all the times you show up, too. You don't go to ther-a-py, and I'll have ya shipped off to prison."
I am pretty sure this is not how the American judicial system works.
"Also, you go out and screw things up while you're in ther-a-py, breaking that lawl, and I'll have you shipped off. You hear me, son?"
"I hear you, sir. And I humbly accept your grateful offer to turn my life around. I would be on the streets if it weren't for your fatherly mentoring. You look out for me so much, man, it... It just brings a tear to my poor, broken home eye." He smiled, seemingly appeased, as if he couldn't quite catch the sarcasm in the delinquent's voice.
"That's real good, son. You're a good kid, I know you won't let the law down."
"Sweet, so I can go now?"
"Hell no, boy, you're sittin' your ass right down in that cell until we can get you a ther-a-pist on the phone. We gotta strike your record too, make sure this little escapade of yours doesn't ever get heard of. Make yourself cozy," the big man said, leaving at once and shouting at the officers standing about. Jarrett was sure he could vaguely make out something that sounded like bets being thrown around.
Uhhh what the fuck just happened.
((THIS IS EXACTLY HOW GETTING ARRESTED WORKS IN AMERICA. The guy that spoke to him was just some head cop guy or whatever.))
Some small, hollow bird cage later, Jarrett could hear the footsteps echoing towards him. He always hated the tiny roadside police stations--not prisons, or institutions, but small, quiet buildings characterized by the sound of typing on computers and hushed phone conversations, officers chewing the fat and laughing fatly from the other side of the building. One or two little rink-a-dink jail cells for over-nighters and done-me-wrongs. It was so sterile and insincere; he'd be out by 9 in the morning.
"Poneewass." Oh jesus crap.
"Yes, sir," the offender offered in his best military response voice--simply a louder, more obnoxious affectation than what he had been groomed to provide authority during school. It was almost comical, and he already knew he wasn't going to be taken seriously.
"Do you remember court order of 'round oh, two months ago?" Such a sweet, innocent chime to antagonize the boy.
"Two months ago? Aww, it's been that long already, George? I don't come down and visit you guys near half often eno--"
"Can it, boy, I said, do you remember court orders?"
"No." Law enforcement never has a sense of humor.
"Judge said, she said 'you don't get your act together, you come back round again, it's gonna be jail time."
Oh, so what? OOOOOH, JAIL TIME, JESUS NO. "Well, hell, bro, it looks like I done goofed."
"See now, and that's where you're wrong, son, see I don't like to see good men with the potential to be upstanding members of society get put away." He leaned in, sealing the suspicion that the entire last sentence was a load of bullshit. "See, boy I think we can make a deal. You keep out from under foot and I keep you out the slammer."
Wow, this guy is a joke. "That sounds pretty sweet, dudebro, I--"
"You shut your mouth I ain't done talking at ya." Uh ok. "Now listen. It seems to me like you don't have a proper head on your shoulders, probably count a broken family or childhood abuse or what have ya and I feel sorry for you. I'm gonna get you the help that you need, boy."
"What exactly the fuck are you talking about."
"Watch your language. Now you listen up. I'm gonna start calling around, find you a good ther-a-pist. And you're gonna go to ther-a-py. You got that? I'm gonna have em log all the times you show up, too. You don't go to ther-a-py, and I'll have ya shipped off to prison."
I am pretty sure this is not how the American judicial system works.
"Also, you go out and screw things up while you're in ther-a-py, breaking that lawl, and I'll have you shipped off. You hear me, son?"
"I hear you, sir. And I humbly accept your grateful offer to turn my life around. I would be on the streets if it weren't for your fatherly mentoring. You look out for me so much, man, it... It just brings a tear to my poor, broken home eye." He smiled, seemingly appeased, as if he couldn't quite catch the sarcasm in the delinquent's voice.
"That's real good, son. You're a good kid, I know you won't let the law down."
"Sweet, so I can go now?"
"Hell no, boy, you're sittin' your ass right down in that cell until we can get you a ther-a-pist on the phone. We gotta strike your record too, make sure this little escapade of yours doesn't ever get heard of. Make yourself cozy," the big man said, leaving at once and shouting at the officers standing about. Jarrett was sure he could vaguely make out something that sounded like bets being thrown around.
Uhhh what the fuck just happened.
((THIS IS EXACTLY HOW GETTING ARRESTED WORKS IN AMERICA. The guy that spoke to him was just some head cop guy or whatever.))