Rent-A-Cop

A taxi pulls into the gated community at one in the morning and continues down the road for a mile before dropping off his fare in front of a beautiful Florida home. The security guard pulls behind him as he travels back towards the community entrance, orange lights flashing.

“What the fuck,” the taxi driver says. He looks at his speedometer, he is traveling 35 mph. The speed limit is 25.

He pulls the taxi over and gets out angry.

“What the hell do you want?” he yells at the security guard who is still in his car.

The security guard jumps out of his car, gun drawn, shaking wildly. The taxi driver calmly plucks the gun from the security guards grasp.

“If you’re going to point a gun at somebody, you don’t stick it out in the air like that,” the taxi driver instructs the security guard, “you hold it close to your body, like this, with both hands, that way they can’t take it from you.”

The taxi driver gets in his car and drives away. He passes over a small bridge and tosses the gun into the water.

Six months later, the taxi driver is at home with his new girlfriend. She is a manager at a security firm.

They sit and eat jalapeños straight from the jar while they watch TV. He tells her the story of the Security Guard and the Taxi Driver. When he is finished, she stares at him.

“Six months ago, we had a security guard show up who said he lost his weapon,” she says, “he didn’t have any explanation. We fired him.”
Copyright (c) 2008 http://crudeandfeckless.blogspot.com/ by Kevin McDonald