After striking out in hookerland for the second night in a row, with the

miserable dawn starting to poke its unforgiving glare through the tacky
polyester curtains, suddenly identity theft didn't seen like such a bad idea. I,
confident that my car was going to run out of gas on the way home, was
unwilling to be a sitting duck, tweaking behind the wheel illuminating the the
northbound shoulder on the 405 with my "look at me, look at me" blinkers.
Ussury, much more fluent in serious criminal shit than I, could see that I, the
walking tell, was not the best candidate to send into Kmart with a stolen
credit card. I was incredibly disappointed but also honored that finally
someone gave a shit about my well being.

Shitty pimp, broke and gifted with a high enough level of experience with
defrauding low end shopping centers while on drugs to keep it cool in the
commission of a crime, approached the pitchers mound with gusto and
bravado. god I hope hes better at identity theft than he is at pimping
because if so we are all fucked.

Unfortunately for me the time it took planning the crime had given way to
the time to commit the crime meaning we had to go outside. I very much
enjoyed getting high, talking shit, and planning this crime, committing it for
real in the outside world was another story. I was in no mood to go outside
into weather so beautiful it makes you re-evaluate your shitty life choices.
But drugs and motels must be bought so we forged on into the great big
world (aka shitty Garden Grove motel parking lot) and into the early 1990s
beat up Mercedes Francis and Ussury called home on the nights when the
crime didnt pay we went. Snaps for Francis for being responsible enough to
keep his tail lights and tags in pristine condition.

The sun was glaring down on the rusty black parked car as we twitched in
our seats in the back of the strip mall parking lot filled with thrifty soccer
moms and their bleached blond hair, tennis skirts, and ever so brightly
dressed kids, with engine still running because there was a 50/50 chance
that the car would need a jump anytime the engine was cut. Getaway car not
so much when you have to wait for a jump.

And there we were, idling in a spot close enough to keep a watchful eye on
the traffic walking in and out of Kmart yet far enough to keep his license
plate off the security cameras. I was so focused on looking towards the
Kmart for the swat team swarming the pace that i forgot to keep watch from
the back window. Until it was too late. Then again, I will say that regardless
of which window one chooses to keep cop watch, if you spot the cop coming
in your direction, its too late. Come to think of it, cop watch as whole is a
meaningless endeavor since, again, once theyre on their way over, sadly the
game is already lost. It was I who saw the cop two feet from my window
gaining speed and losing distance. Before the panic had enough time to set
in.. Knock knock knock on the driver side window. Oh. My. God. Its.
Happening. Please god stop shaking. Play it cool. Play it cool. Dammit. Sit
still. And avoid eye contact I'm still not sure what's a bigger giveaway -
avoiding eye contact or the buggy, dead eyed, terrified for no reason
expression my face freezes in when I reach the paranoid phase of my drug
using.

Francis, once again being the living embodiment of responsibility as

understood by a drug addict, decided that rolling the window down was a
little easier than taking his role as getaway driver seriously and made the
choice to avoid a high speed chase today. whats going on guys.. the
question, innocuous if asked by literally anyone else in the world, hurled
towards us in a tone which properly accented the cop's steriotypical sturdy,
arms crossed over his chest im a badass police man stance. Creative idea
sir, playing dumb, since you clearly know we are the getaway vehicle for our
friend whos just over there committing a non-violent felony so that we can
buy drugs and a motel room to sleep in since I failed to provide with my
hookery wiles. Francis shot back with what seems to be the problem officer
in an "I dont think its any of your fucking business why we three tweakers
chose this prime back parking lot real estate as the preferred location to
expel our black diesel exhaust into your lovely smog filled oasis tone. Yeah
Francis, you ell him, answering a question with a question. Anything you say
can be used against you. Just fuck it all and play the repeat game until he
breaks.

Blowing right through the pleasantries, it was time to get down to business
and we unenthusiasticly handed our identification over. Reaching into my
purse trying to keep my hands from shaking was justifiably impossible given
the cop terror, drug induced paranoia, and lack of sleep and food. Jessica just
stop shaking. I really didnt want to give this asshole any additional reason to
arrest me. As the cop waked away to run our identification we were left to
wait in terrified silence, well I was terrified. Francis and Ussury were as cool
as cucumbers since they knew sitting in a parking lot was not in fact a crime.

I had a different thoughts on that and was absolutely convinced he knew why
we were there, and if he didnt, surely my tweaky aura was probable cause. I
was ready to become another jailhouse statistic, girl moves to LA, fails to
make it in Hollywood and turns to a life of drugs and crime for two days.
But then, off in the distance, we saw shitty pimp walking out of the Kmart,
not wearing handcuffs. He, thanks to the super human powers of alertness
gifted to him by the meth, was very quick to notice the cop and made a
beeline towards literally anywhere else in the world.

Hmm so if hes confused and were confused, who committed what crime
and why is this fucking cop so interested in why we were there? Did the cop
know about the crime and decide to apprehend us first? Or maybe he was
interested in making sure all parking spots are readily available for the
soccer moms in need of fairly priced basic household necessities?

The only thing we could do was sit there and wait, fate in his hands, I recited
my favorite prayer over and over again in my head. "please please please
god please please I am so sorry, ill never do it again. I dont want to go to
jail. Send me a sign if you can hear me. Hello? It could be something as
simple as the wind.. anything really. God? Hello? Help?" Francis was quick to
remind me that sitting in a parking lot was not in fact a crime and if I could
stop acting like a methhaed by picking my lips with dirt laden fingernails
wed all be fine. Taking his advice, I moved from picking my lips to the less
obvious cuticle picking. Ugh there's nothing like peeling back a stubborn
hangnail to pass the time..

Three years later, the cop returned. Well it was nice knowing you all. I wish I
had time for another cigarette. Francis rolled down the window. He handed
Francis and Ussury their IDs. Then he fixed is gaze on yours truly. Oh fuck,
could he see that my cuticle was bleeding? I knew I should have just stuck
with my lips. Can he read my mind can he-- You have a warrant he said
point blank. Well then. I guess were done here. As I got ready to climb over
Ussury and turn myself in I found hard evidence of god existing... thanks
buddy. I'm not going to arrest you. Too much paperwork. Well then. I guess
we actually are done here. Though I must admit I didnt understand why god
spent part of his busy day saving my tweaky ass I was to high to question
anything and unwilling to draw attention to myself just in case he meant to
grant some other jessicas wish.

And just like in the movies, with the golden southern California sun bathing
him in a soft, almost angelic, glow he flipped his sunglasses off his head and
over his eyes, crossed his arms, and leaned back. Slowly and deliberately,
choosing his words wisely, he said I dont know what you guys are doing
here but you need to get the fuck out of my town. Fantastic idea officer.
Francis rolled up the window and made good use of his 50/50 engine as we
obeyed the long arm of the law for the first time in at least 48 hours.

I was so happy to be cruising down the road, dutifully obeying the officers
rule. If it wasnt made completely clear by this point, I am incredibly selfish. I
was thrilled with Frances willingness to hightail it to safety and leave shitty
pimp there. Honestly, he really was my least favorite of the group. I watched
the trees whiz by as we made every single light while terror transformed into
sweet relief granting me a new lease on life. The sun was shining, leaves
were green, I had a cigarette in one hand and the other was fascinated with
tapping on the seat beside me. And into the gates of heaven i went with my
brand new shiny lease on life...For five minutes. Then it was raped
because I know I've seen that fucking gas station before.

Are you fucking kidding me? Though unclear about the exact city limits I was
pretty damn sure that that particular parking lot was definitely part of that
cop's town. We are still in this guys fucking town. And it was made clear that
we should not be.

Jessica, I dont have a warrant. Im not going to jail today he threw in my

face as I thought well neither am I so jokes on you. Francis no longer gave
a shit abut my wants or desires as I was a living breathing probable cause for
search and seizure. I had no idea that my mere warranted presence was
enough to grant the cops the right to search and seizure without needing a
warrant of their own. Good thing his car also would have been mocked by the
civil forfeiture intake officer or this may have gone another way.

Rolling through the strip mall at a pace that could be best described as fuck
you and your free pass now watch us stake this mother out while looking for
someone who did, in fact, just commit or attempt (still unsure of how it
worked out) an actual crime on a security camera.

Found him. Get him in the fucking car please. Turns out he was, in fact, much
better at fraud than pimping. $300 in gift cards for the trio. Nothing for the
idiot on the lam. And then, finally we were done here.