I'll be damned if I can add anything to that brilliant recount.

Pan to my aftermath:

Sunday evening. Living room. I quietly read my novel on the couch as my father, ECIB THE FIRST, County Prosecutor, soaks his aching feet in a basin with bath salts, listlessly flipping through channels and settling inevitably on the local evening news.

Cut to a commercial as the anchor teases: "SEX, DRUGS AND UNDERAGE TEENS AT ILLEGAL UNDERGROUND PARTIES IN DETROIT. A RAVE IS RAIDED AND CHANNEL 7 IS RIGHT THERE. WE'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THIS PHENOMENON WHEN WE COME BACK!"

ecib:

O_o

"Dad, you look reaaaaly tired"

ECIB THE FIRST: (Yawns slightly) "Hmmyeah. I guess I am."

ecib: "Mmm, yeah. You should just head to bed and get some rest. Want me to dump that water out for you?"

ECIB THE FIRST: "Yes, thank you. Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning, good night."

ecib: "Nite!"

ECIB THE FIRST heads up the stairs. I can still see his ankles slipping up from view as commercial break ends and the anchor barrels into the story leading with footage of me and cgod front and center with our hands behind our heads.

Probably the closest I've come to shitting my pants during my adolesence. Luckily my dad was a prosecutor for the neighboring county, so he never got wind of the dismissed ticket.

Btw, the city sent absolutely the most dickish letter (expertly intercepted of course) stating that the tickets were being dismissed "due to a technicality", the technicality being that we were not breaking the law we were given a ticket for.

Good times.