Convict!

I'm going up the river, to the slammer, the big house, see. I'll be behind bars where I'll be walked on a leash by a big man named Jumbo and I perform lap dances for cigarettes. And it's what I deserve. I am clearly the dried scum on the underbelly of humanity. I must be stopped.

Literally.

You see, this morning I ran a stop sign and now I will have a record. The policeman took my license away from me after humiliating me and now I must pay my debt to society.

In all seriousness, I'm still a little shaken by the incident. There were actually two cars that ran the stop sign, but I was chosen for the policeman's wrath. The pretty girl was let go with a warning.

You see, I don't get into trouble. I'm a good boy. I do what I'm told and I over achieve. Yes, that can be stressful, but not as stressful as failure and official reprimand from the municipality of Chicago.

O, the shame!

And for seventy-five dollar dispensation I will be allowed to rejoin the ranks of civilization. But there will be a black mark on my record to match my black wicked soul. How I could be allowed to roam the streets, show my face in public, nay breethe the sweet air of freedom is beyond me.

I ran a stop sign!