Saturday approaching dusk. The sun is resting back on its elbows. The day is cooling and we are enjoying a majestic setting in the park.
"I would love one of those Magnolia flowers," said Mike.
And the Fantastic Tumbling Cohen Brothers are ON the shit. Brandon is horizontal. There are commands being shouted. "Dammit! Gimmie more slack!!!"
Next thing I know, Brandon is standing on Deron's shoulder's and is holding a flawless white Magnolia bloom. The size as a baby's head and almost as pure.
After some more shouted commands, everyone was on their feet as the dust and brittle bark pieces settle.
Enter 2 police officers.
One is dark. Latino? The other is tan Aryan.
Blond boy's whole body seems clenched. A vein is visable in his neck.
"WHERE'S THE WEED!"
"Where's the weed!!!"
Is it not OK to pick the flowers, Officer?
"I can smell it!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
We're burning sage...
um, its considered a pureifying herb. (As if he needed any more reason to want to lock up these pill-popping hippy mother fuckers)
"Where's the weed!"
"Um…I'm arresting you for picking flowers!"
??? I'm sorry? Come again?
They begin searching our bags
"You realize how stupid lighting a fire in the park is!!???"
"What if everybody picked flowers!?? It'd be bare!!"
Top of his lungs. Spittle at the corner of his mouth.
OK. I see his game. He wants to play power game. He's embarrassed that he pulled attitude and hasn't actually caught us doing anything good. So he'll school us.
You've got the badge. The law still says you could fuck us and lump us with the violent and hurtful criminals. So we'll bow to you. But know THIS cop boy, we all know why you're the teacher. We all know why we're playing this game.
We all look pitiful and say how sorry we are. "We were acting stupidly. We're sorry."
They walk off quickly and drive away.
Move along. Nothing to see.
June 28, nineteen98