oh don't be so coy
you know you want some of this
Smeagol's pick up lines
Alright, you've been tortured long enough, let us delve into the cesspool that is this wily raptor's jail career (because if you do it for more than a 1/3 of your life, it is a career)
First, a few corrections: Smeagol is already out of jail, this happened a few weeks ago. Also he only enjoyed 4 days of sweet sweet freedom. Sometimes my sources talk like something just happened and it happened a while ago, and if there's one thing I want you to think about when you think of steveshaikus, it's journalistic integrity.
Anyway, on to the story:
Apparently, Smeagol was being watched. A few of our boys in blue had noticed he was driving his new car with expired tags that didn't even go to his car, and that - and I have no proof of this but I will check - didn't even match each other (meaning they were both Missouri plates, but not the same Missouri plates). Being more than a little curious and perhaps worrying that with the current recession nipping at their heels that anything to pad their arrest stats would be preferential, they stopped said wily raptor, who had RECENTLY HAD HIS HARD-FUCKING-SHIP license taken away, and found more than they bargained for.
Apparently Smeagol had recently gotten some insulin from an unnamed source (I am assuming he stole it but said someone else got it for him) from a nursing home. I guess when someone dies they throw out their medications as they cannot use them on someone else, and somehow some wily raptor got ahold of it. Like I said, at this point this is all conjecture, so take this with a grain of salt. Smeagol, being a hardened and street smart criminal, didn't bother taking the label off of said bottle of medication, so when the police asked who Rosa was, I am sure he attempted to pass himself off as a female, and had they been drive thru operators they may have fallen for it, but since they were not, I could only assume he gave a little grunt of annoyance as they happily placed him in a squad car for a few evenings with Nasty Nate, with his naughty jungle of love and penchant for both spooning and gently licking earlobes.
The unnamed source apparently asked Smeagol why he could not bring himself to take the label off of the bottle, at which point it would appear to be his, or why he had it laying out on the seat when the police showed up, and I guess Smeagol informed them that that was "their problem" and that if they didn't like it they could "paddle up shit creek niggie"... He did recently get out, as I guess jails are overflowing and letting Smeagol go gives another police officer a chance to pad his stats which is really the name of the game at this point...
Anyhoo, things going on with me: I am going to try out for the KC Shockers next year, as I missed them this year, and while I would be able to probably walk on with my penchant for hitting people and bad attitude it would be nice to be a little bigger and buffer for such an endeavor... I was thinking about setting up a secondary blog posting my long and arduous journey from looking like this:
I am gonna buckle down and do it, I am tired of taking off my shirt and getting my fingers caught in my bra, my delicious mayonnaise infused man-boobs sagging in the afternoon sun, my shorts and small children getting stuck in my crack as I wheeze and huff along at a bewildering saunter toward the next concession stand...
Alright maybe it's not that bad but I need to drop some poundage, and though I thought upping my toilet shopping was going to help, apparently it is not.
With my basement carpeted and now looking like somewhere fit for human habitation, I am turning my attentions to the back yard. I am thinking some tasteful tables for fish fries and bbq parties, or maybe a wading pool that we can throw Prit into and laugh as he curses in his strange but beautiful native language of the Queen's English...
Anyhoo... Apparently JJ hangs with some rather nefarious characters (who knew?) whose last name is President or sounds like Presidents or something...who were under surveillance by the local constabulary corps... now JJ is no longer in the crime game, preferring the quiet life living in the most crime ridden district in the City has to offer, but these are old friends who stopped by for a bit of noshing, maybe a hot toddy or a Hot Karl or maybe a Cleveland Steamer?
Anyway, long after they had left, the police apparently kicked their door in, and with guns drawn asked my mom if she knew the Presidents. I think you all know where it went from there, suffice it to say she is pretty cool sometimes. Apparently she started naming US presidents until they put their guns away and walked out, possibly to catch Smeagol and beat his thong until he talked.