Slopping Hogs (or Boozing Pigs)

I'm out early this morning with Irish and my girlfriend, early being a euphemism for "we weren't feeling tired yet". Took the wretched little car down to Smith's to pick up some Hornsby's. (My darling had an awful thirst for hard cider, made worse by the current living situation or lack thereof.)

The night had been fine until this quiet adventure; we had a place to sleep (out in Bigfork), we'd been fed, and, having acquired our amber prize, we were slipping south under the blinking orange stoplights of Main. As I said, the night had been fine, at least before I spot the black and white pulling a very obvious U-turn in the rearview.

I was off and parked on a side-road, lights off, even before the po-po started flashing. No dice- they pulled up right behind, and while I was digging out my insurance card, the first little piggy is pounding on my passenger-side window (spooked Irish) telling everyone in the car to keep their hands on their knees, where they could be easily seen.

Second little piggy sidles up to my window, makin' nice. Asks where we've come from (Bigfork) and where we're going (also Bigfork). Asks if I've had anything to drink (nosir). Asks if I know why I've been stopped (nosir).

Apparently I was going ten miles over the speed limit, doing 35 in a 25. I have to take his word for this, seeing as how the wretched wretched little car has no working speedometer. Mr. Good-Cop calls attention to the Hornsby's (unopened) still in the back, asks if anyone in the car has had anything to drink. (While all this is going on, Mr. Bad-Cop has pulled Irish and my girlfriend's IDs. He has seen that Irish is not quite twenty years old.)

The second little piggy zeroes in on Irish. "Have you had anything to drink tonight?" As soon as Irish hesitates, I know we're boned. "...Nosir." Cop hears it too, asks if he's lying, asks if he's had anything to drink. Irish admits he's had a little.

Irish gets pulled, has to go around back and talk to both little piggies and breathe into a tube while my girlfriend and I wait. After a moment or so, Good-Cop sidles up to my window again, asks my girlfriend to hand him the Hornsby's. Once he has the drinks in hand, he informs me that he "cannot allow a minor, especially one who's been drinking, to travel in a car containing alcohol."

He is very knowing, this shifty-eyed piggy. His words, the words themselves, betray nothing, while his twitchy smile and the tone of his voice make an ultimatum of his neutral statement. He says "I'll be taking this" and "Do you understand?". I nod "yesir" and we trade, the drinks for Irish.

They interrogate him for several more minutes while I fume. When he comes back, the piggies flank us one more time. Good-Cop tells us that he's cut us two big breaks, seeing as how we were speeding and how Irish didn't pass his test. He reminds us what a big favor they're cutting us. Then, right after he tells us we can go, he picks up the Hornsby's. "Now it's time for our break" he says. Big laugh from the piggies.

We drive back to Bigfork. I fume. Not the first time I dealt with dirty cops. Certainly won't be the last. Kalispell has more than enough.