Punk Police

I'm back in South California because my winter break is over. College hasn't changed a bit. Sleep, eat, and shit. Today, after a great game of some B-ball in my new J's (see "An I'm a Douche Short" for more details) I was feelin' a little hungry and decided to get my snack on at the school cafeteria. I was wearing my basketball shorts, meaning I did not have any money, but I was feeling bold. Bold and hungry. Snatching myself a corn dog, I walked out with no confrontation of stealing. Just as I was sure to go to my roundabout area, I noticed the campus cop walking towards me with a vicious expression on his plump, African face. This campus cop was one of those cops who's black but thinks he's white because he's a cop. Hey, at least I recognize what I is. Now this cop grabbed me by my arm and said, "Boy, what's your name? Do you go to this school?" I refused to answer to the cop so he took me to the dean's office. Because I plead my fifth, he couldn't get nothing out of me. The cop began. "Do you know why you're here?" he started.  No suh," I replied. "I saw you carrying a weapon in the cafeteria," he said with a shit-eating grin. "Turn out what you're carrying." I forked over a aluminum foiled corn dog with the popsicle stick sticking out. His expression melted. That nigga stuttered at me. "Buh..buhh.bbuhh I saw it," he said. "I was going to get a promotion. I was supposed to be a hero, stopping the next Virginia Tech." Yeah...so that's my story of how I escaped an attack on my civil rights. This worthless piece of trash police officer saw me as a meal ticket. Fuck the police.