Operating
Under the Influence
"Do you know who I am?" Heather asked. The blue and red lights
flashed in her rearview mirror. "No, I don't know who you are and
I don't care," he said. "I need to see your license and registration."
"You really don't know who I am?" she said. "License and
registration,"
he repeated. She handed it to him. "I'm Heather Locklear," she
said.
"Hey, this is a dog license," he said, handing her back the dog
tag.
"I want to see your driver's license." "Did you hear me?"
she asked.
"I'm Heather Locklear. The movie star." "No, you're not,"
he said.
"It says right here on your license that your name is Heather Weatherbee."
"It's an assumed name," she said. "Assume nothing,"
he said. "Besides,
your hair isn't even blonde. It's red." "I dyed it," she
said. "I'm incognito.
To keep the crowds away. Just look at me." "I did," he said.
"You don't
look anything like Heather Locklear. You're fat and she has big boobs."
"I've got big boobs," she said. "No, you don't," he
said. "Yes, I do,"
she said. "Your boobs look like two dropped eggs," he said. "They
do
not," she said. "They do, too." "So you've been looking
at my boobs?"
she said. "You asked me to," he said. "I did not," she
said. "Yes, you did,"
he said. "Do you know why I pulled you over?" "Because I'm
Heather
Locklear," she said. "And you probably want my autograph,"
"No,"
he said. "Do you know how fast you
were going?" "Obviously not fast
enough," she said. "I'm late for my television show." "There's
no
television shows around here," he said. "We're in the middle of
the desert."
"We are not," she said. "We are too. Just look around you."
She did.
"Hey," she said. "Where are your pants?" "What?"
he said. "Your pants,"
she said. "You're wearing hospital pajamas and slippers. And that badge
is made out of cardboard and it's misspelled. It says 'Sherif' and it's
written
in crayon. You're not even a real police officer, I bet." "I am
too," he said.
"You are not," she said. "Then where are your pants?"
"At the dry cleaners,"
he said. "You're a liar," she said. "You are too," he
said. "I am not," she said.
"You are too. I can tell," he said. "You still haven't told
me why you're
wearing hospital pajamas instead of pants," she said. "I'm undercover,"
he said. "I don't believe you." "Really?" he said. "Well,
maybe, just a little,"
she said. "Okay then," he said. "I'm going to let you off
with a warning this
time," he said. "Oh, thank you, officer. I'll never do it again."
"My pleasure,
Miss Locklear. And would it be too much to ask for your autograph?"
"Certainly not," she said and scribbled down her name. "By
the way,"
he asked. "Do you happen to know where the nearest dry cleaners is
located?"
By then she had sped off. He thought, no one is ever going to believe he
stopped Heather Locklear.
—Jack
Conway