road is slowly damaging our internal organs. I plan to show how, over time, we are suffering this damage. I am making it a health and safety issue, which falls under state law on traffic safety.”
“But how?” Gitana studied Donna’s white knuckles on the steering wheel as Bud panned in on them.
“Collins and I are building a machine that we have tentatively named the Jolt-A-Matic. I know it sounds corny, but it suits the purpose. We’re going to measure the amount of force the bumpy road exerts on kidneys, hearts and livers.”
“Where exactly are you going to get these body parts?” Gitana said.
“The university morgue. Collins’s cousin works there and he’s getting us a loaner set.”
Both she and Bud noticed how Donna, who normally would have been extremely inquisitive over Bud’s proposal, hadn’t said a word. Instead, she kept glancing in the rearview mirror at the police cruiser, who was now tailgating them. As if on cue, he flipped on the lights.
“Oh, my fucking God! What have I done?” Donna said, slowing down and pulling to the side of the road. Her face was beet red and she was shaking.
Gitana rummaged in the glove box for the registration.
“Top right in the black leather holder,” Donna said in an automaton’s voice.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Bud offered.
“No!” Gitana said.
Bud captured her urgency on film.
“Let Donna do the talking.” She eyed Donna. “Are you going to be able to talk?”
“I don’t know,” she screeched. “Oh, God, oh God, I can’t believe this is happening.”
Gitana pinched her shoulder hard.
“Ouch! Why’d you do that?”
“To pinch you out of it. You were in shock,” Gitana said.
The bullhorn from the police car boomed out, “Everyone out of the car and keep your hands above your head and put them on the roof of the car.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, what did I do?” Donna said, trying to unclick the seat belt that she had succeeded in jamming.
“Donna, calm down,” Gitana said, leaning over and unbuckling it for her. “Bud, get out of the car on my side. Donna, here is the registration and your wallet.”
“Okay, I need to be calm, cool and collected.”
“I’m taking the 1080,” Bud said. She put on her Contour HD 1080P helmet camera. It wasn’t the best for filming as it captured a lot of kneecaps and nose hairs, but it was better than nothing in certain situations.
Gitana looked skeptical. “Just in case we encounter anything untoward,” Bud said.
“Untoward?” Gitana said.
“Police brutality,” Bud said.
“But we haven’t done anything,” Gitana said.
“Then why have we been pulled over?” Bud retorted.
Gitana frowned. “You’ve got a point,” she said, as they exited the car.
“Put your hands on top of the car,” the police officer said. He was as tall as he was wide and wore mirrored sunglasses. His nametag read “Officer Juan Baca.” He swaggered over and looked down at Bud, who had her hands up in the air. “I said, put your hands on the roof of the car,” he said imperiously.
“I can’t. I’m too short,” Bud replied.
“Are you getting smart with me?”
“Officer…” Gitana interjected.
He held up his hand for silence.
“No, sir, I am simply stating the obvious, but if you give me a minute I will comply to the best of my abilities,” Bud said.
She climbed on the bumper, then up the hood and onto the roof of the car. She sat down with her palms flat on the roof of the car.
The police officer nodded approvingly. “She’s a smart little bugger.” He studied her helmet for a moment but said nothing.
“Officer, what exactly have we done?” Gitana asked.
Twenty minutes later, Donna banged her head on the steering wheel and said, “I should never have put that stuff in my trunk.”
She was about to do it again, when Gitana put out a restraining arm.
“Well, at least it wasn’t the illegal aliens he was looking for. It could’ve been worse,” Bud said
“But how?” Gitana studied Donna’s white knuckles on the steering wheel as Bud panned in on them.
“Collins and I are building a machine that we have tentatively named the Jolt-A-Matic. I know it sounds corny, but it suits the purpose. We’re going to measure the amount of force the bumpy road exerts on kidneys, hearts and livers.”
“Where exactly are you going to get these body parts?” Gitana said.
“The university morgue. Collins’s cousin works there and he’s getting us a loaner set.”
Both she and Bud noticed how Donna, who normally would have been extremely inquisitive over Bud’s proposal, hadn’t said a word. Instead, she kept glancing in the rearview mirror at the police cruiser, who was now tailgating them. As if on cue, he flipped on the lights.
“Oh, my fucking God! What have I done?” Donna said, slowing down and pulling to the side of the road. Her face was beet red and she was shaking.
Gitana rummaged in the glove box for the registration.
“Top right in the black leather holder,” Donna said in an automaton’s voice.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Bud offered.
“No!” Gitana said.
Bud captured her urgency on film.
“Let Donna do the talking.” She eyed Donna. “Are you going to be able to talk?”
“I don’t know,” she screeched. “Oh, God, oh God, I can’t believe this is happening.”
Gitana pinched her shoulder hard.
“Ouch! Why’d you do that?”
“To pinch you out of it. You were in shock,” Gitana said.
The bullhorn from the police car boomed out, “Everyone out of the car and keep your hands above your head and put them on the roof of the car.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, what did I do?” Donna said, trying to unclick the seat belt that she had succeeded in jamming.
“Donna, calm down,” Gitana said, leaning over and unbuckling it for her. “Bud, get out of the car on my side. Donna, here is the registration and your wallet.”
“Okay, I need to be calm, cool and collected.”
“I’m taking the 1080,” Bud said. She put on her Contour HD 1080P helmet camera. It wasn’t the best for filming as it captured a lot of kneecaps and nose hairs, but it was better than nothing in certain situations.
Gitana looked skeptical. “Just in case we encounter anything untoward,” Bud said.
“Untoward?” Gitana said.
“Police brutality,” Bud said.
“But we haven’t done anything,” Gitana said.
“Then why have we been pulled over?” Bud retorted.
Gitana frowned. “You’ve got a point,” she said, as they exited the car.
“Put your hands on top of the car,” the police officer said. He was as tall as he was wide and wore mirrored sunglasses. His nametag read “Officer Juan Baca.” He swaggered over and looked down at Bud, who had her hands up in the air. “I said, put your hands on the roof of the car,” he said imperiously.
“I can’t. I’m too short,” Bud replied.
“Are you getting smart with me?”
“Officer…” Gitana interjected.
He held up his hand for silence.
“No, sir, I am simply stating the obvious, but if you give me a minute I will comply to the best of my abilities,” Bud said.
She climbed on the bumper, then up the hood and onto the roof of the car. She sat down with her palms flat on the roof of the car.
The police officer nodded approvingly. “She’s a smart little bugger.” He studied her helmet for a moment but said nothing.
“Officer, what exactly have we done?” Gitana asked.
Twenty minutes later, Donna banged her head on the steering wheel and said, “I should never have put that stuff in my trunk.”
She was about to do it again, when Gitana put out a restraining arm.
“Well, at least it wasn’t the illegal aliens he was looking for. It could’ve been worse,” Bud said
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