When my alarm went off I stretched and slapped the snooze button. To my unbounded surprise, the clock made a cracking sound and the display ceased to display. This was a bad omen.
The rest of the morning went roughly because my hair wouldn’t curl and my coffee pot broke. So I settled for yesterday’s cold coffee. Work started in half an hour and I was already late, so I squeezed into my car. It took another five minutes. But I was in and soon going about 43 mph. I didn’t open the windows like usual because my hair was still in curlers. Hopefully by the time I reached work my hair would cooperate and show some kink worthy of the name curl. I clutched my coffee cup in my right hand, gently so as not to crush it.
And then the stroke fell. I saw flashing lights behind me and realized that I was going too slow for the interstate. We both slowed and pulled over to the side of the road. This was going to be a tough conversation.
The officer, his name was Phelps I believe, approached my car and beckoned me to roll down my window. His face was registering intense confusion and I almost pitied him. It took me a while, but I got the window down.
“Ma’am,” he said slowly, looking at my hair with something almost akin to fear in his eyes. I just squawked loudly. His eyes widened.
“How on earth did you get here,” he gasped. I stared at him. He was most offensive.
He seemed to sense that he’d ruffled my feathers, so he took a step or two back. “Should I call pest control? Or animal control?” he muttered. This was about the last straw and I took a sip of my coffee in contempt.
Officer Phelps picked up his phone, keeping a sharp eye on me. “I’ll call the zoo,” he said firmly.
I squealed, I screamed, I fled. Jumping out of my vehicle, I took to my heels, at 43 mph.
Love,
Hannah Jo <3
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