Another one I had that springs to mind,

It was the fourth of July and I was at work. Except nobody was working but me, everyone else was drinking and eating brats. When it was time to go, one of the drunk girls being sent home laughed at the boss and said, "Well, I'd go, but I'm kind of not allowed to drive while drunk.”

My manager said, “Alright. I'll find a worker to take you home.”

I raised my hand.

“Haven't had a drop, sir.”

It was either volunteer or clean up after everyone.

“Well okay then," he said, "Owen'll do it.”

I knocked over several large garden plots and they all broke. Even the plastic ones. This is because I'm a klutz, not because I'm drunk. Big boss saw it, pulled me aside and said:

“Son, I expect you to get a zero on any breathalizer test. Hell, I'd get a zero and I just drank nine beers. Good luck.”

So I went to my vehicle and another drunk lady was there, needing a ride. So we drove a while, and eventually we pulled over so one could throw up.

When she was done she saw these frogs and wanted to catch them, and I had to convince her to leave them be and get back in the truck and when we turned around, the truck was rolling down the hill with the other passed out drunk girl inside. We ran after it until it crashed into a pole and shattered into a million tiny pieces all over the place. The other girl was alright though, because she was limp. Then the cops showed up in a squad car. Three of them came out. One of them was really cocky and had a mullet. He was all the way on the right. The one on the left was quiet and pointing his gun in my face. The one in the middle didn't say much but whenever he did say anything it was by the book. "Evening,!" Said the cocky one, "Why do we have this mess here?"

I tried to explain.

We pulled over here--”

"Why'd you do that?"

"I don't even remember. See, we pulled over because—oh yeah, because we wanted to capture a frog. That's what.”

“Get on with the story.” a 1950s car with a bunch of punk kids whizzed by.

“Damnit!" said the middle cop, "They're getting away!" But the cocky cop didn't want to chase after them. He kept staring at me waiting for me to get on with the story.

“Oh, well, I forgot to put it in park, we kind of stalled out. Me and name here got out with name to get the frog, other stayed in the car passed out. She'd been drinking.” (DOH) “Anyway, it rolled down the ditch and crashed into this tree here. Good thing no one was hurt.”

“You been drinkin, boy?”

“No, no, I'm just a bit disoriented from the crash.”

“I thought you sed you wasn't in the crash?”

“I wasn't, but--” the one with the gun in my face was smiling now. He was smiling at his gun, polished, shiny revolver, not standard police equipment. He was bothering me.

“I wasn't in the car, but...” I sighed and tried to turn my attention back to the more reasonable of the three. But I couldn't quite manage. “I wasn't in the car. Pull the trigger, fuckstick!”

his face jolted away from the trigger and towards me. He looked unhappy for a moment and put his gun away.

“He don't like you doin' that,” said the one with the mullet. “Getting all in his face about his gun.”

“Yeah, well, if you don't like it you can shoot me in the face.” I said, casting a slight glance at the cop that had the revolver.

“Yeah, well maybe I will!” the mullet one said, pulling his police shotgun into view. "Kapow! Kapow!" he said.

I looked over at the middle cop. “Hey, you, tell Moe here that he's a stupid cunt.”

He looked over at the mullet cop.

“Uh. Stan. Our public citizen safety target say's you're.. uh... He wants you to be a little nicer.”

“What? No! Tell HIM that he's an ASSTARD!”

“Uh.. I'm really not comfortable with this...”

I let out a loud laugh. The guy looked startled.

I was getting nowhere.

The nineteen fifties car full of punk kids whizzed around the corner. This time a girl took off her shirt and tossed it at them and they finally gave up on me to chase after them.

It was a strange dream.

--
If anyone asks, I said something poignant here.