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|Cronies and the Locals (standard:humor, 677 words)|
|Author: Kamea||Added: Nov 07 2005||Views/Reads: 2125/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|This story gives a whole new meaning to the word "DD" or "Designated Driver."|
Greg Himer was sixty eight years old, and going strong. He had been alone for a long time, his only son was in prison somewhere on the west coast, for armed obbery and murder. His wife had died five years ago of breast cancer, and he had no remaining family. You could usually find him at Cronys, a local bar in the small southern town where he lived. Every night he would park hiself in the same seat, on the same side of the bar, and talk to all the locals. On this particular night, he was sharing a story with the unfortunate chap who had inhabited the seat next to his. Gregs stories tended to never end, and get more and more amazing as he told them. A young undercover cop sat in the back of the bar sipping a beer and watching the old man get drunk and tell his stories. He radioed ahead to his buddies parked across the street, who were waiting for people to leave the bar drunk. It was the end of the month and they had quotas to meet. The young cop watched Greg, amused, as the old man flung his arms in the air, exclaiming in great detail his lavish story which just seemed to grow and grow. The old geezer was apparently wasted, and the young cop radioed ahead as the closing hour finally came, and Greg stood up and shuffled to the door with the rest of the locals. His buddies were waiting on Greg himer. Greg stumbled out into the parking lot, and fished his keys from his pocket, with great diffuculty. He then proceeded to try and unlock three seperate cars, until he finally found his old rustic honda accord. Once inside the vehicle, he somehow managed to turn everything on, but the car. His emergency lights blinked, his windshield wipers scraped across the glass, the horn was somehow honking, and the locals were rolling with laughter in the parking lot. Greg finally got the car going, and proceeded to reverse, stop, go foward, stop, reverse, and finally pull out of his parking spot. He weaved around the parking lot for a few seconds, before finally finding the driveway. Slowly , with his left turn signal blinking, he made a right out of the parking lot, only to be met with the sudden screaming of sirens and flashing on blue lights. He took his time pulling over, weaving just a little bit, until he made it to the shoulder of the road. A tall dark haired officer approached the drivers side, grinning from ear to ear. He tapped on the window, and Greg made a great effort of cranking it down. He squinted up at the light that was being shined straight into his face. "Could you please step out of the car sir?" The voice was deep and filled with authority. He nodded and slowly climbed out of the car. he officer stood staring at him. "Have you been drinking sir?" Greg shook his head "No sir." The officer frowned. "You mean to tell me you haven't had one drink all night?" Once again Greg shook his head "No sir, haven't had a drink in fifteen years." The officer smiled, "Well then you wouldn't mind if I gave you a breathelizer right?" He rocked back on his heels with his thumbs hooked through his belt loops. "No sir." Greg stated, staring at his feet. The officer adminestered the test, and stared at the results, obviously puzzled. "Sir, you haven't had anything to drink tonight?" He asked. Greg looked up at him and finally smiled. "No sir, I haven't had a drink in fifteen years." He repeated grinning. "You see, I'm the DD" The officer frowned and thought that surely this man was senile. "The DD?" He asked, "But there's no one in the car with you." Greg shook his head. "You see officer, I'm not the designated driver." "I'm the designated diversion." He pointed back over his shoulder at the now empty parking lot. Tweet
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