Issue One Hundred and Two

So my uncle steals credit cards. It's kind of his thing. They once called him 'Plastic Joe' on the news, which he wildly objected to, claiming that it made him sound "like a Goddamn vibrator!" Anyway, when I was 11, the cops were raiding our house, looking for evidence to incarcerate my dear, misguided uncle. The whole family is on the porch, and my lazy-eyed dog... Read More » will not stop barking at the asshole police. They tell us that we had better shut the dog up, because he does have the authority to shoot it. I'm thinking that if he even tries to shoot my dumbass mouth breather dog, I'll punch him in the tooth. A couple of minutes later, another officer comes out of the house, and slams down a comically large orange envelope on the table, and blank credit cards and credit card paraphernalia spill out everywhere. The officer has death in his eyes, and demands to know who the envelope belongs to. Nobody says anything. But then smart ass 11 year old me stands up, and says dramatically, "Officer. Those are obviously mine. I'm a mafia crime lord. They call me Plastic Joe." I extend my wrists for cuffs. "Be gentle." The shit hits the fan. The officers get furious, my grandma is trying to tell them I was obviously joking, my sister is calling me stupid, and my uncle is laughing his balls off. 11 year old girl: 1 Cops: 0 Well, I mean...my uncle did end up getting arrested. So...maybe it's a tie.

February 15, 2012