(no subject)
Small coastal town. The sun beats down, but the town and the beach are uncharacteristically empty. Earl drives, groggily drifting about though staying in his lane. Smoking a cigarette, he at times pauses to gaze at it with affection, twiddling it between his thumb and index finger. He sings along to “Blind Love” by Tom Waits, in the typical boisterous drunken fashion, interrupting himself to drag off his cigarette. A vaguely middle-eastern police officer with a thin moustache begins to tail him in suspicion, though Earl doesn’t notice. Upon completion of his cigarette, Earl throws it out the window. The negligent toss gives the officer enough incentive to investigate his suspicions. As Earl places another cigarette in his mouth and fumbles around for a lighter, the cop turns his lights on. Taking his hands off the wheel to light his smoke, still unaware of the officer’s presence, Earl veers halfway into the opposing lane, luckily devoid of oncoming traffic. He manages to light up and quickly rights his course of travel. Now he notices the lights in his mirror, then, cigarette in mouth, leans half of his body out of the window and turns around to verify what he has just seen. One elbow resting on his car door’s open window, he removes the other hand from the wheel and points, and mouths, “Me?” to the officer, with great bravado and accompanying gestures of surprise.
Cop: via intercom
Pull over.
Earl nods his head and complies. The officer pulls behind him and approaches the window. Earl neglects to turn down his music and assumes a cool demeanor as he drags his cigarette like a badass in ‘50s cinema, very obviously deliberate.
Earl: taking a drag and slurring as the smoke creeps out of his mouth
Is there a problem, officer?
Cop: Sir, please turn the music off.
Earl: quickly turning the stereo off, repeating
Sorry about that. What I said was, “is there a problem, officer?”
Cop: faking a cough with his fist in front of his mouth
Sir, please put out your cigarette. Earl quickly complies, as the cop continues It just makes my eyes water, you know? The watery eyes of justice, that’s no name for a buddy-cop movie. Thank you. Anyways, I noticed you threw that cigarette butt out your window back there. You are aware that discarding burning debris in such a manner is a violation in the state of Oregon.
Earl: like a smooth talking greaser swindling his way out of trouble in the principle’s office, maintaining his posturing
With all due respect, officer, I only smoke when I’m drunk. cop recoils in surprise You think we could . . . well, let this one slide? I mean, I swear to God, Allah if you are of the Muslim persuasion, that I don’t do this all the time. Those smokers, and I’m with you on this one, are litterbug peons. But I, myself, am not, no sir, thank you ma’am.
Earl stares at the cop, smirking and more expectant than anxious, believing to have offered reason enough to be let off the hook.
Cop: eye brows having risen in confused delight upon Earl’s telling misspeak, quickly recovers his stoic glare behind his aviators and furrows his brow, asking in a friendly manner
Have you had anything to drink today? pauses, then explains with great pride My prowess as an officer leads me to deduce the possibility. I’ve been on the road for 15 years, and . . .
Earl: missing the real issue, still caught up on the littering violation, interrupts
I mean, I work at a recycling center for Christ’s sake. Excuse me, Muhammad’s sake. You never answered me, are you Muslim? ‘Cause I’m not one of those bigots who will assume that you’re a terrorist, you know? You look more like Eric Estrada than Osama. Totally Ponch. But, like I was saying: me, litter? If it hadn’t just, like two minutes ago, littered, I’d say: you, Sir, are crazy. But, I did litter, but I just feel like my tax dollars are wasted on an officer who wastes his time with a sometimes offender when there are smokers, I shit you not, throwing cigarettes out of their windows, and sometimes they have a friend who smokes, so that’s like doubly littering and . . .
Cop: fed up, interrupts with a raised, stern voice of strained authority
Sir, please step out of the car
Earl: steps out without a word
Are you going to frisk me? I should probably tell you, I’m really ticklish. shrugs
Cop: No. Okay, sir, I’m going to hold my finger up, and I’m gonna need you to follow it with your eyes.
Earl: Still attempting humor
Whatever floats your boat.
Earl emits awkward, forced laughter and is not joined by the cop. The officer proceeds to hold his finger up and as he moves it to the side, Earl’s head swivels dramatically.
Cop: Follow it with just your eyes, please, sir.
Earl: face changing to a look of dread, having just grasped the situation, seems about to talk several times before finally pointing and exclaiming in an unconvincingly high voice
Is that David Bowie?!
The officer turns his head to the left
Earl: fabricating and still squeakily
No, in the Rite Aid parking lot. Over there.
Earl points again in a completely different direction. As the cop turns his head to the other side, Earl seizes the belated opportunity to bolt on foot, exhaling loudly and dramatically as he sets off. The cop takes off after him immediately, trips and rolls across the gravel, but rises to continue pursuit, albeit bloodied and hobbling a bit.