“License and registration, please,” the traffic cop said wearily to the silver-haired woman in the convertible. What followed wasn’t in any police training manual. “Can’t help you with the license, sugar,” she drawled. “Judge took it after my third DUI. The car? Belongs to my ex-husband. Or rather, it did before our… disagreement.”
The officer’s flashlight trembled slightly as she continued cheerfully: “The trunk’s where I keep my tools – if you know what I mean.” Six more cruisers arrived as the story escalated from traffic violation to potential felony.
The police chief himself approached cautiously. “Ma’am, my officer tells me you confessed to -” “Gracious no!” she interrupted, clutching her pearls. “I would never!” The pristine trunk contained only a golf umbrella and crossword book.
Her actual documents emerged from a bejeweled wallet. “That sweet young officer,” she mused, “must be working too hard. Imagining all sorts of nonsense!” The department still debates whether they were pranked or outwitted by the sharpest grandma in the county.
