The Old Drunk

Neighbors had complained to the mayor about the noisy pub on the corner of 3rd & Lambourne. Seems that the old cronies got together every friday & saturday, played cards, drank beer, told lies and jokes until 2am Saturday morning, when the pub had to close.

Officer Redding, parked down the street was not amused. He checked his watch, noted it was 01:55, time for the old drunks to start leaving. If he hadnt been assigned this crap detail hed be down at the I-80 Truck stop about now having a nice hot cup of coffee. Redding pulled out a cigarette and was about to light up when the door of the pub slammed open and an old geezer stumbled out. Redding put the smoke back in the pack; he was on point now.

The old man stumbled around, fished his car keys out of his pocket, dropped them a couple of times, finally found them and weaved down the sidewalk and across the road to his car.

Redding started his engine, watching carefully as the old man fumbled to unlock his door. Other patrons leaving the pub seemed a little tipsy, but nothing like the old goat trying to get into his car. As soon as the old mans car started to pull away from the curb, Redding was on him like a hound on a bone, siren, redlights and loudspeaker. Redding wanted these complaining neighbors to know the city was doing its job.

Outta the car, old man! demanded Redding. But officer, I havent had anything to drink! complained the old boy. Sure, you havent, oldtimer, sure you havent, replied Redding as he put the cuffs on the old guy and hauled him downtown.

At the station, the old man blew into the breathalyzer and the needle didnt move. What the…YOU havent been drinking, old timer!

But thats what I tried to tell you back there, officer! Well then why were you stumbling all over the place? asked Redding. Well, officer, tonight when we all got to the pub, they elected me to be the designated drunk when the place closed down!

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