Fayner Posts: It’s never good being visited by the FBI. It is especially bad when at the time they pull up in their black Crown Victoria you’re busy in the driveway cleaning dog shit out of your car while shirtless and wearing AC/DC pants and blaring Justin Timberlake’s "Rock Your Body" from the car stereo.
That’s what happened to me today.
"Two 257 violations?" I asked.
"That’s what we’re here to find out," said one of the FBI men.
"Okay, fine, so I did have sex with some girl two days before her 18th birthday, but we were in International Waters where the laws of the land are helpless to prosecute. And I never videotaped it for sale. Like I told her at the time, sure the red record button was on but there was no tape in the camera."
"Excuse me?" he replied.
"Go ahead and check all my videos. It certainly isn’t on a tape marked "Scott’s First Dance Lesson" hidden in the wall behind a Martha Stewart poster in my bedroom."
The two G-Men looked totally baffled. The one in charge took his partner back to their car for a minute, had a brief chat then returned.
"Sir, what we are here for are two reports that you violated US Code 257 in the US Highway Laws. According to our information, during an accident at which you stopped to give assistance you were both unprepared to give an injured man First Aid and you failed to ask the driver in the other car to stop smoking, both which are required by law under what is called 257."
"Am I going to prison?" I sulked.
"I’m calling my lawyer. He’s Larry Flynt’s old lawyer and he’s Jewish. Are you prepared for that?"
"Fine, listen," he said, "the truth is we were just driving by and my partner thought you were cute in your AC/DC pants. We checked you in our database and found that 257 thing."
"So I’m free to go?"
"Yes, but we’d be mighty happy if you were free on Saturday to go out with him."
"Saturday’s not good for me," I shot back. "I’m going into the hospital to get rid of my awful case of genital herpes, which will keep me out of commision for two weeks. But I’m free after that!!!!"
The FBI guy went back to the car and told his partner what I said. He then returned.
"He’s says that he’s pretty busy these days," he told me, "so give him your number and I guess he’ll get back to you and set up a date when he has some time."
"I understand," I replied. "It must be a lot of work trying to fight invisible terrorists while pretending that your boss isn’t the most dangerous man on Earth. I can’t say I’m not sad, though."
For the record, this is all made up by my silly little imagination. To my knowledge no one in the FBI is gay. Plus, I’ve never stopped to help anyone ever.