“Hey you nutcase, my name is BILL not BETTE. I aint one of your ***** lovers so get your mitts off me before I call the cops.”

I glared at Bill then back at Bette who had conveniently disappeared before I could finish stating my case against K. I hated when Bette did that . .make an appearance at a moment of despair. And I also hated being called derogatory ***** names like “*****” or “*****” by some homophobic male. And I hated being threatened when I knew I was right.

“Call the cops?” I asked with surprise in my voice. “Well you go right ahead you over the hill woman hating piece of cheese. You go right ahead. In fact, I will let you use my cell phone.”

I reached in the car with both hands and grabbed the buttons of his shirt as well as his arm and hastily pulled him from his car, sending both of falling backwards to the ground.

“Hey, hey, watch my leg, *****. Watch the leg!” he screamed as we tumbled to the pavement. And I should have watched his leg.

By this time the cops had already been called and a crowd had gathered around his car and my bike. I could hear the whispers and the “OH MY GOD”s all around us. And I could hear the distinct voice of authority hovering over the both of us.

No one was quite sure what to do as they looked on in horror and disgust. It seems the old man wasn’t kidding when he told me to watch his leg. I guess I pulled him from the car with just a little too much force. As I ejected from him from his seat, I kinda sorta most definitely dislodged his wooden leg from his thigh and it remained in the vehicle as he fell on top of me. I shaded the sun from my eyes as I brushed him off me and on to the pavement and looked up into the face of one huge female highway patrolwoman.

(GAWDDAMIT. . . NO DEW FOR YOU . . . I AM IN SOOOO MUCH TROUBLE)

The officer reached down and pulled me up by the back of my tattered leather jacket. The majority of the crowd circled the old man and helped him to his feet, or should I say, to his foot. He sat back in the car and attached his leg while the Amazon Authority figure began to question me.

“Don’t speak girl, just flash some ID and registration for that bike. I DO NOT want to hear any explanation at this time.”

She sounded pretty mean, so I just shut my mouth and reached for my wallet. I patted my back pants pocket then the pockets of my jacket. I felt my heart begin to race a little as my wallet was no where to be found. I had left the house in such a state of disbelief that I had walked out with no money, no ID, no credit cards, no nothing.

“Uh Officer, I cant seem to locate my wallet. Maybe I left it on the bike.”

As I began to walk to the bike, I first wanted to apologize to the old man. I turned toward him and opened my mouth to speak but was interrupted by some very direct orders.

“Honey, you just stop right there. No wallet, no ID, no registration, NO MOVING. You just remain still and put your hands on top of your head.”

“What? Wait, I just wanted to tell him I was sorry and get my wallet. There’s been a bit of a misunderstanding, officer, you see”

“STOP TALKING, I must inform you that you have the right to remain silent, anything you . . . “

I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. The voice of the officer became indistinct as I watched the bystanders help the old man. I shook my head and closed my eyes. And for the second time that day, I found myself handcuffed.

TBC . . . .