I’ve been busted and put in jails many, many times. It all started with my first arrest for malicious mischief at age thirteen. I’ve been in the Fort Smith, Van Buren, Fayetteville, Springdale and Russellville jails in Arkansas. And the Tulsa County Jail, Muskogee City Jail and the old Oklahoma County Jail in OKC. Yes, sad to say, I made my rounds. Some of the older jails I’ve been in were pretty damn rough. There were a few times when being arrested that I wasn’t very nice. Especially when I’d had a few drinks or was high on pills like Xanax, Valium or Ludes. And too, when the arresting officers weren’t that nice to me. Many times I was provoked into mouthing off and doing things I shouldn’t have done. In the criminal world, it’s sometimes the cop’s job to rough a man up. Or so they think. To make getting busted a memorable experience. Whether it be an attempt to freak you the fuck out so bad you’ll never want to get busted and come back to jail again. Or simply because the cops want to be sadistic ass pricks that think they’re above the law and want to take an unseen opportunity to kick a man in handcuffs ass. Yeah, I’ve been roughed up a time or two. Usually not that bad, but sometimes bad enough to where I never forgot.

One time in Texas when I got busted for weed and cocaine, the cops questioned me and didn’t like the answers I gave in return. Apparently, the Trooper found an ounce of cocaine in a hideaway container and wanted to know whose it was. When I said, “Hell if I know. I’ve never seen that shaving cream can before in my life!” He slammed my head into the roof of the cop car while pushing my handcuffed^_behind my-back ass into his back seat. I mean … did the guy really think I was going to say that big old rock was mine? Silly fucker. Who did he think I was? Some dumb-ass who just fell off a turnip truck? Some idiot who’d just been born yesterday? Not likely my man, not likely. Take my hot ass on down to the county jail where I can call a bondsman and get sprung. The knot on my cranium would heal. I just enjoyed the look on his face when I told him I didn’t have a beard and why in the hell would I have any use for that can of Mennen brand menthol shaving cream. Most of the time, I’m the one that likes to get the last laugh. But let’s face it folks, that doesn’t always happen. Reality has it, that isn’t always the case.

Sometimes when you think you have the upper hand and it’s a win-win situation for you? It isn’t. The incident I’m about to describe was one of those times. Where in the end, the cops got the last laugh and were saying, “Come and Get Your Love!”

I was out drinking with some friends one night. We were having a good old time drinking whiskey and beer. My old buddy Bobby had just cashed a script for Xanax and gave me six purple lmg. X’s. With a quick swig of Michelob, I downed them all. Too drunk to drive and only staying a few blocks away, I decided to walk from the Faux Pas to my room at Motel 6. About halfway there, a Fort Smith black and white came driving down Burnham street where I’d just stumbled and fell into a ditch. Hoping the cops hadn’t seen my idiocy, I got up, brushed myself off and tried to play it off like nothing happened. Didnt’ work. The patrol car turned around in McDonalds parking lot and came after my drunk ass. Not even asking if I could pass a sobriety test, one of the two rookie cops cuffed me behind my back and threw me in the back seat of the cop car. Pissed at myself for being so stupid and mad at the rookies for not giving me a break and letting me go, I decided to be a belligerent smartass and take it out on the cops. Big mistake. They must have already dealt with a few drunks that Saturday night. Because they certainly had no problem dealing with me.