Getting a Ticket

TW: gun violence—proceed with caution

I’m walking my dogs at zero dark thirty on a Monday morning, just minding my own business, when I see this asshole driving a fucking Hummer. I wish I could write him a ticket then and there; I don’t know how driving a fucking Hummer isn’t against the law yet. The environment has bounced back some since the U.S. adopted its new legal system, but climate change is here to stay. There’s no reason to be driving a fucking tank in the city.

I’m still grumbling to myself about this injustice when the scene shifts. I can’t believe what I’m seeing for a second. Is this asshole gonna get a ticket after all?

Maybe so, because he’s slowed down and I can tell he’s swinging a little wide as he approaches the median break at the end of my block.

Shit-for-brains is about to do an illegal U-turn less than 100 feet from me. This is nuts; there is a sign there, directly in front of where he’s preparing to turn. He can’t not see it. Making a U-turn here would show a blatant disregard for the law, and who does that? I flick my eyes to the left to confirm, but yeah, it’s still clearly marked, no U-turn.

He knows it too. I see him glance around real quick, looking for anyone who might write him up. Sure, he’s an asshole, but even an asshole doesn’t want to get a ticket.

Everybody takes the law real serious these days.

Unfortunately for him, it’s still dark as fuck and I’m mostly hidden behind my neighbor’s shrubs. His eyes glide past where I’m standing. I can see the moment he decides to go for it.

Stupid prick could’ve driven half a block and done a perfectly legal U-turn at the next median break, but nope. He’s gonna make me do paperwork, and I ain’t even mad about it.

I check that my camera’s running, documenting everything that’s about to happen. Its blinking red light cheers me on, assuring me that I can prove the asshole earned the ticket I’m about to give him.

I snap to get my dogs’ attention and give them a wait signal. They stop where they are and lay down. They know the drill.

Then I lift my rifle, aim carefully, and shoot the asshole in the head as he finishes the U-turn. The Hummer wanders off its path, drifting across the empty travel lanes before bumping to a stop against the curb.

That’s one of the benefits of the zero-tolerance legal system: there’s rarely any traffic clogging up the roads. Driving is much safer than it used to be—as long as you obey the law.

I call the dogs and walk over to the Hummer to see if there’s anyone else inside. It’s hot already, and the sun’s not even up yet. Leaving a child or a pet alone in a car on a day like this would be lethal.

I have to climb up on the running board to inspect the hulking car’s interior, but thankfully it’s empty except for the now-dead asshole. I jump down to open the door and—goddammit, why is this car so fucking big—climb up again so I can reach over and turn off the ignition.

Without the throbbing of the gas-guzzler’s engine, the pre-dawn quiet seems to echo.

In the stillness, I open my pad and write the time of execution and the justification on a fresh ticket. I fill in my camera’s license number so the authorities can check my feed to confirm my verdict. Then I sign the ticket and leave the bottom copy in the guy’s lap for the cleanup crew.

This citation is as clean as they come, so I figure I can finish walking the dogs before I call it in.

Three blocks later, one of my dogs stops to take a dump. I make sure my camera is recording as I bag his shit and take it with me.

You can get a ticket if you don’t pick up after your dog.