Being in the back of a police car wasn't nearly as frightening or intense as I would have thought. While I was a little scared of what was to come (as I had never been arrested), I certainly wasn't letting it show. I was joking with Curt while we were driven to the cop-shop.
Constable Green was the chap who picked us up from Pharmasave and gave us the ride to the station. He was actually quite a nice gentleman. He was in his early 40s I would have guessed. He had short brown hair and a moustache. He was also a bit overweight. Imagine Chief Wiggum with his Be Sharps moustache and you've got Constable Green.
Upon arrival at the police station, Curt and I were carted into an interrogation cell. It was charming in its cliché appearance. Bars on the window, a table in the middle of the room, and the walls dingy with pieces of drywall missing here and there due to an irate prisoner. Even had the two-way mirror (though it should be called a one-way mirror since you can only see through it one way). Curt and I sat there for what must have been a half hour while Green was out prancing around or having a J/O in the parking lot...well, most likely he was spying on us to see what we'd say. But Curt and I had nothing to hide. We really, really, really had to piss though. At one point Curt told me that he had to go so badly that his teeth were floating. I felt his pain.
After a half hour or so, Green came into the room, sat down in silence, folded his hands on the desk, and stared at us...one at a time. Long uncomfortable leers. When he finished undressing us with his eyes, he piped up and gave us the "stealing is bad, mkay" speech.
Thanks, tips. I know stealing is bad. But it's damn fun!
Once he finished his speech, he asked us how long we'd be up to our no good thieving. Of course, Curt and I lied through our floating teeth and said it was our first time. Then Green continued his spiel. More spiel. More spiel. More spiel. When Green finished his torturous and incessant blabbing, he told us that he hoped we learned our lesson. Curt and I said emphatically that we did...mainly because we just wanted to get the hell out of there. But it was not meant to be. Green informed us that we had to get our photos taken and our fingerprints recorded. Green got up and walked to the door. Green then told us to take off our jackets for the photos.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!
If you recall in part 1 of this entry, I mentioned that Curt and I "hit the mall" before we went to Pharmasave, and it was a real big hit. Every single pocket was filled in both my jackets, and I had tonnes of crap stashed in my denim overshirt (all around my torso). Terrified of being busted, I don't think anyone in the entire history of humankind took off jackets more slowly or carefully than Curt and I did that evening. It was a work of grace, like trying to weave one's body through a maze of laser trip wires. Once we got our jackets off, we ever-so-gently rested them over our metal chairs, desperate not to clank our stolen goods against the metal piping. Strangely enough, Green didn't inquire as to why we were removing our jackets as though we were practicing Tai Chi Chuan.
My denim shirt was not an article that I could remove, but fortunately it was baggy enough that the stolen objects lacing my body were not obvious. Curt and I walked in to the criminal processing area of the police station and had our portraits and prints recorded. Once we had finished, we returned to the interrogation room where we waited another fifteen minutes or so. We threw our jackets back on and then waited patiently in our seats. Green returned and told us that we were free to leave and that our parents were waiting in the lobby.
My dad handled the situation quite well considering his track record. He was usually a positive punishment sort of fellow (spanking weren't common but they did happen when I was younger). I was too old to be taken over his knee but maybe he would punch me in the head or something. I didn't know. But he was pretty cool about it. Clearly disappointed but wasn't freaking out. When we returned home, my mum and dad sat to the table with me and lectured me about what I did. I had already suffered through a lecture at the cop station...how many lectures did I have to endure?
However, while I was receiving lecture #2, the phone rang. It was Curt's mother. As the story went, when Curt got home with his mother and her boyfriend, Curt's mother told Curt to call his father in Saskatchewan to tell his father what happened. Curt became angered, as Curt had a very short temper, and violently took off his jacket (which was also filled with stolen shit). Curt threw the jacket up on a hook and the items in the jacket smacked the wall, thus alerting his mother that there was something in the jacket. Busted. So his mother called my home to ask if I had stolen any other things earlier in the day too. I took a gamble and said no, but it was a bluff easily called by my father. "So if I go down there and check your jacket, I won't find anything?" I had no choice but to cave. After the phone call, my mum expressed her disappointment in my behaviour and the lecture continued.
About twenty minutes later, the phone rang...again. It was Curt's mother. There was even more to the situation now, and Curt, his mother, and his mother's boyfriend were all coming to my house to discuss it. What it was I had no idea. At least not until they arrived...
Stay tuned for the third and final chapter!
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