C.R. terror

Mobility Forum, Sep/Oct 2001 by Rexwinkle, Ebby

"Hello," C.R. burbled as he hurriedly answered the phone while trying to down a gulp of gusto.

"Hey there, my Bodacious Bullfrog," smacked Tassles. "When are you gonna come pick me up?"

C.R. hesitated, "Ahhh... I'll be there in 15 minutes. Will yooou be ready?"

"Sure Baby... You know me, I'm always..."

"Tassles!" interrupted C.R. "You have to look your best tonight... General Lockjaw is going to be here."

"No problem," quipped Tassles who was flipping through dresses in the closet. "I have a dress that a general once bought me. I'll wear that one to the party."

"Beauuuuty-fill," slurred C.R. "I'll be there in a flash."

"Toodles," Tassles swirled as she squeezed into her hot pink, sequin and blue bobbled mini dress with a polka-dot faux ostrich feather boa.

C.R. was finally ready. He stumbled out the door, crawled into the car, and commenced his drive to Tassles' house. But in his rush he forgot to leave the glass of ale at home, and wouldn't you know it... a county mounty pulls up beside the now, very polluted C.R.

"Pull over sir," the officer politely instructed C.R. as he motioned for him to pull to the side of the road. "Pull your vehicle off the road," the officer sternly ordered again.

"Ahh... yes, sir," C.R. nervously answered as he swerved to the edge of the road.

"What's the problem offeecer?" questioned C.R. as the officer bent over to peer inside the car.

"May I see your license?" asked the officer who was now taking a long hard look at the jug of jovial juice the Master of Disaster was clutching in his hand on the edge of the steering wheel.

"Sure thing, offeecer!" C.R. responded as he tried to think where his license might be. C.R. was really confused. "Ah, isn't the license on the back of the car, offeecer?" asked C.R. as he bumped his head while trying to look out the window.

"Yes sir, you're absolutely rights Your vehicle license is on the back of the car," replied the officer who was slowly beginning to become irritated with C.R.'s inebriated state. "But I would like to see your driver's license," explained the officer who was now fully aware that the Sultan of Slush was not in control of his faculties.

"Sure," C.R. slurred as he fumbled around aimlessly with one hand to find his wallet. Finally after several moments of groping in all the wrong places C.R. decided he could do a much better job looking for his wallet with two hands... so he handed the officer his glass of fermentation. "Could you hold this for me?" C.R asked as he handed the officer the mug of beer.

"Sure thing," said the officer as he began to smile profusely. "I'll be glad to help you out," as he reached to take the glass from C.R.'s hands.

"Did you say get out?" mumbled C.R. as he tried to fixate on the officer's face. The officer's smile was getting larger and more intense by the moment.

"No problem," C.R. grunted as he grappled around in the car trying to find the handle so he could open the door of his Jag in response to what he thought was the officer's request.

C.R. finally managed to find the handle, and open the door of his Jag, only to fall out of the car, spread-eagle on the pavement. After a few moments, he realized he was prostrate on the ground and figured he had better stand up. While trying to stand up next to the car, C.R. began to chatter. "Yep, sure is going to be a nice weekend," he declared as if the officer wanted to discuss the weather.