i knew this girl that steals cars, she is good at it, really good. we went out for a few weeks and each night she would turn up in a different car. i think she was trying to impress me, however i made it clear to her that i don't care much for these kind of things and if she stole books instead i would marry her. she liked that i wrote, she particularly liked my short story, 'the definitive head job' which i'll post up here when i find it. it is a great story and every word is true.
any way car thief girl liked her speed and often we drove through the western parts of sydney like crazed freaks filled with the right stuff, pushing the limits, i'm sure she induced a few sonic booms in some fancy yellow car with a low suspension and big wheels, come to think of it. however i was never one for all this larking around, i liked a nice cuppa tea and a good book, cosy up on the sofa, smoke a spliff, the speed thing was okay but the stealing cars for joy rides got me down. i was younger then but i still had a terrible sense of responsibility and guilt would eat away. now this crazy girl sped all over the place yet never did she ever get caught. it puzzled me. i asked her and she just smiled.
then one night she got out from bed and went for a shower and while she was out i noticed all her clothes on the floor and got up to fold them up and hang them, being an anal ocd type.
as i folded her pants her wallet fell out and opened before me. and there was her police badge.
i jumped back into bed with one thought on my mind, mmm, where there are police women there are handcuffs. much more fun than speeding around the western lands.