“Ma’am, do you know why I pulled you over?”
“Speeding.” Shirley paused and then emphasized, “Again.”
The policeman said nothing.
“Officer, I’m sure you get a lot of lame excuses about not deserving a ticket. But I do.”
“Ma’am, I’m not sure I understand.”
“It’s simple,” the woman took a breath. “It’s not that I’m a terrible driver. But I speed. Sometimes I honk at other drivers in my way. And there have been times I’ve weaved in and out of traffic to get around them.” She let out a sigh of relief. “But I’ve never gotten a ticket. It’s just not right.”
The officer blinked. “So, you want a ticket?”
“Yes, please,” the woman appeared sincere. “I need to be punished. I need to know that there are consequences for my actions.”
He remained silent.
“You see, I just can’t stop. Maybe I should go to jail.” She looked at him earnestly. “How many tickets do I need before I’m put in jail so I won’t be a threat to traffic safety?”
“Ma’am, are you trying to get arrested?”
“Yes, officer. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I’m a menace to society. A danger to myself and others. I can’t stop speeding. It’s an addiction.”
He paused before answering slowly. “Well, ma’am, I’m not quite sure how to help you with that. But I can certainly give you a ticket.”
The woman smiled gratefully. “Thank you, officer. You’re a lifesaver. Really.”
He hesitated before retreating to his car. A while later he returned and gave the woman a speeding citation. “Here you go, ma’am.” He added, “Drive safely.”
She took the ticket and smiled. “Thank you, I feel better already. Now, maybe the other ladies in my women’s group will stop calling me ‘Miss Goody Two Shoes.'” She admired the ticket for a moment and then looked up again. “If not, I’ll be back.”
by George Alger
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