65 Mile an Hour Curve


        It was a beautiful rainy morning in Hallaway, New York when Tyler Mason went for a drive. He brought his butler Jarod with him. It was simply them, the road, their wheels, and ridiculous children’s music blaring from the speakers. They left the outskirts of the bustling city where they lived and found themselves deep in the luxurious New York country. A giant box of Tyler’s painting supplies was in the trunk and he just felt that today was going to be a good day.

        It was this carefree attitude that stimulated the 65 mile an hour curve. About the time blue lights flashed, Tyler realized too late that the speed limit was not whatever he wanted it to be.         

         He panicked, turning to Jarod.

        “Get in the driver’s seat!”

        “What! You’re such a freak! I’m not getting in the driver’s seat!”

         “If you don’t do this, Jarod, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to fire you.”

         “Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to sue you for wrongful termination.”

         “I will argue that I had ‘at-will rights’!”

         “Even when there is a policeman looking you in the eye, Tyler?”

         Tyler looked to the left. He rolled down his window.

         “Why are you two punks making me wait five minutes to roll the window down?” the cop said with mild agitation.

         Tyler looked away from the cop, focusing his eyes on the road. Jarod leaned past Tyler.

         “Sorry, sir, he gets a little grouchy when people yell at him.”

         “I’m not even yelling,” the cop said.

         Jarod simply shrugged.

         “Will you please turn the music down,” the cop asked, finding it hard to enforce the law to Disney Princess music.

         “I can’t,” Tyler said, looking at the cop with a pained expression.

         “Okay, so, you can drive a car but you can’t turn the music on your radio off?” the cop asked.

         Tyler nodded slowly. Jarod looked away and rubbed his temples, letting Tyler fight this battle out himself.

         “False. Turn the music off,” the cop said.

         “Listen, I can’t-”

         The cop opened his mouth. Tyler hurriedly finished his thought.

         “Hear me out! I can’t because if I turn to the side, you’re going to think that I have a gun.”

         “Turn the music off!” the cop said, his face turning an angry color.

         Tyler turned to the side, and in that split-second, Jarod saw a wicked glint in his young master’s eye. ‘Don’t do it,’ Jarod mouthed. Tyler grinned and sharply turned to the left, sticking out fake finger guns. He rammed them into the cop’s gut and then stuck his car back into drive and sped off.





        Tyler’s intuition was wrong. Today was not a very good day. He was now detained at the police station for the entire day. Across from him, a forensic sketch artist started painting. Tyler glared at him for a very long time. Tyler wished he could be painting. Tyler brought his fingers up to the jail cell bars and slowly pointed them towards the man.

        “Pew, pew, pew.”

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