What's your sign?

Probably among one of the Worst pick-up lines known to ‘woman-kind’. That, and lines like “Hey, I may not be Fred Flintstone, but I bet I can make Your Bedrock.” *wink wink.

But this isn’t a story about how to pick up women in bars, or any place else for that matter.. this is a little recollection about something that may… or may not... have happened sometime in the past. You see, if I don’t hint at the notion that this could be fraudulent fantasy... some folks in a certain small southern town could come looking for me. So we’ll just call this my first attempt at pure unadulterated fiction – k?

First off.. speaking of birth signs, mine happens to be Scorpio. We Scorpios can be a somewhat serious-minded group of folk, but can also be fairly easy-going for the most part … until someone crosses the line. And then it gets intense.

And we don’t need an audience to watch us balance the scales either. We don’t need the recognition. .. and we sure don’t need to hear someone say “Oh, you got him good!! That’ll show him!” Nope.. we’re more about results.. because with a Scorpio anything that might deter, diminish or detract from the ultimate goal is not considered a ‘legitimate pleasure’. We are perfectly content to hide in the shadows... finish our business… and be done with it. The fact that our tormentor never sees us coming does not in any way take away from the joy that ‘justice has been served’. And while we may even forgive sometimes.. a Scorpio never forgets. Ever.

And that’s where this all begins:

Some years ago.. around fifteen I would guess, late on a Sunday night, I was on the road through the deep south returning home from a job interview. The whole process had gone really well and I felt certain I’d be offered the job within the week. But for now I’d still need to drive through most of the night in order to make it into work the next morning. Fortunately I lived ‘on-site’ where I worked, so without that morning commute I’d be able to add a good 30 minutes to some precious sleeping time.

Driving into this quaint little town I noticed these charming old clapboard-siding houses and an old town square; there was an ancient courthouse at the center with a tall clock tower, which actually worked… just lovely.

The part I drove through on my way out of town was just as nice. A long street lined with grand old Victorian houses on one side and some railroad tracks on the other. I remember thinking how nice it would be to perhaps return someday to see it during daylight.

The posted speed limit was 25 miles an hour. (which made some sense.. I mean, it was a residential area) However, with absolutely NO one around.. and a fairly clear shot toward the city limit, I was going about 45.

Uh oh.

Helloooeeewww Local Law enforcement!

I should have remembered that when it comes to interaction with local law enforcement…

….once Krispy Kreme has closed for the evening… it’s open season on tourists.

And that is how I came to know Officer Mark. (I won't give his real name, but the name “Mark” is also slang for the target of a practical joke, so somehow that handle seems fitting)

“Evenin’. Do you have any idea why I stopped you?”

(Never admit guilt of any kind)

“No Sir, I can’t imagine.”


“Well, the posted limit through this part of town is 25 miles an hour – and you were going 48”. (Ok... so I fudged earlier on the 45)

“You see, Sir..... there was no traffic.. and I was on a long trip home.. you see.. uh.. and I just finished this job interview that went very well and .. “

“Well there, young man, if th' inner-view went That good then you shouldn’t have any problem payin’ this ticket, reckon?” , he said with a smirk, opening his little book.

Yeah... I reckon.

He did happen to mention that if I could somehow make it back to town for the court appearance…and stand before the judge and specifically request a ‘two point reduction’… that most likely he would do it.

“But you have to actually show up – he won’t do it over the phone now.” said Officer Mark.  Seriously, he had the entire 'bumpkin cop' routine down to the nth degree - everything but the tobacco spit.  But he seemed fairly serious, as if he were trying to toss me some sort of consolation prize and that put my brain into gear..

At the time, although I lived in Georgia, I still had a Tennessee driver’s license. And looking back, I can see where he might have thought, just by looking at my license, there was no way I was coming all the way back to Podunkville just to ask for a two point reduction on a traffic ticket… But then, the officer probably didn’t have any one close to him who just happened to be a Scorpio either.

I have referenced it more than once: Dura lex sed lex - “The law is hard, but it is the law”. True. But even still, you’d think he might have made SOME concession .. . considering the fact that it WAS... in the middle of NoWhereTown USA… at TWO o’freaking clock in the morning.

But nope.. he wadn’t havin none of That!  Ok then, Mr. Mark...   but remember... YOU drew the line in the sand.

So all the way home.. in the dark.. on that lonely stretch of highway... I kept rolling it over and over in my mind: WWTASD?

(What WOULD the average Scorpio do??)

Well, I’ll tell you what THIS Scorpio did. It took some time and planning to get it all together. .. but first thing I did was talk to the boss Monday morning and ask for that court date off. No problem there – done.

The morning of the court appearance I had to get up mighty early to leave in time to show up for court at 8 am. Eventually, I found an open McDonald’s, grabbed some breakfast and was on my way.

That ancient courthouse seemed just as charming on the inside… and “wooden”. Much more beautiful in the daylight. High ceilings with rotary fans…no air conditioning. Wide slat pine board floors – charming.

Since I was the first arrival, when court began I was the first to be called. And for what it’s worth, I also happened to be the ONLY person in court wearing a jacket and tie.

And somehow, based on the judge’s slightly startled reaction, I don’t think that anyone had ever said the words “Good morning” to him while they approached the bench either – but it felt like the right thing to do.

(As Mother used to say: “There’s never a good excuse for bad manners!”)

The visit was short and sweet, and I did get the opportunity to ask him if it would be possible to reduce the points by two. He shrugged.. and looked over at my tormentor, Officer Krispy Kreme,

“Did he give y’any trouble?”

“Naw’sr, he done good.”

“Very well then, we’ll reduce by two points, you can pay at the clerk’s office, get your receipt and be on your way.”  Down went the gavel  *SLAM!  "Next case!"     Thank you, your Honor.

I paid.. and got my receipt… that sacred document…. with the officer’s first ….AND LAST name on it.

Gold!

Now for part B.

Back in those days, it was fairly easy to find someone’s address and other information by just looking them up in the phone book or by calling directory assistance. That was before the days of the World Wide Interweb and wide-stream stalker paranoia. Directory assistance was more than happy to provide the information I needed. So now that I had a name.. and a town.. it wasn’t too difficult to find an address.

(And no….. I wasn't going to stop by the house – too damn simple.. certainly no glory in that.)

But what I did do instead .. was stop by a printing company .. and have a rubber stamp made.. you know.. like those address label things.. or the ones that say in bold letters “PAID”… only this one read:

“From the Library of “Officer Krispy Kreme”… along with the street address..In fact, I believe the print shop actually Gave me a little ink pad to go with. Nice people.

And finally,,,  it all comes together

The next time I headed home for east Tennessee from Atlanta I made a short stop in Chattanooga.. at what was once one of the largest adult bookstores in the region. Couldn’t miss it - right there off the interstate.. huge yellow and red signs…. I put my head down.. averted my eyes.. and went right in.

I quickly spotted, and picked up about 4 or 5 of those little perverted dime store novels. You know,,, the really classy paperbacks… ones like… “The real reason Father Tom is not married” and “Fun with Me and Sis.. “ and “My goat, my lover.” You get the idea.

I made the purchase.. folded the black bag tightly… and got the hell outta there.

When I returned home, under the light of the green bankers lamp over my roll-top desk .. in each one of those little books.. up front on the inside page…. With a slight tilt, just for that artistic effect…

…. went the stamp ...

From the Library of:

Officer Krispy Kreme

1111 Address Lane

Smalltown, USA 55555

And then right back in the black bag they went.

Several months later, as luck would have it, I eventually got my wish, and I was able to once again pass through that quaint little town with the clock tower… in the middle of the business day.. when everything was open….

Including the local library.

I nearly danced up the limestone steps and walked in... greeted the kindly old lady behind the desk with a smile and a nod, as she happily gave me directions… and then…….. rather quietly …

 And surreptitiously,,,

… one-by-one… proceeded to insert each of those books from my little black bag…

....in random spots throughout the children’s section.

Scorpio One – Donuts None

You know, I almost felt sorry for the guy.

Almost.

I remember from years ago something my mentor, Mr. Abell, told me

“Things don’t just happen, Mr. Miller.. things happen just.”

Gosh… if only Officer Krispy Kreme had just bothered to think his way through to a better opening line than:

"Do ya know why I stopped ye?"

 and simply asked...:
“What’s your sign?”