Lauryne has barely stepped four metres out of her campus hostel when there is a whoosh of floodlights, a squeal of sirens and a chorus of clicks as a cordon of police officers, crouched behind their car doors yell, “Freeze! We have you surrounded. Get down!”

Oh shit!” mumbles Lauryne. “It’s the fashion police.”

She tries to fight back! “You’ll never take me alive, coppers! I have great legs. And I’m Not Afraid To Use Them!”

Because she is a hardened miniskirt criminal. But fortunately the chief had expected this.

“It won’t work. We are all policewomen,” Detective Jane “Bulldog” Namutebi blares back through the megaphone. 

Lauryne has no choice. She surrenders and is subdued.

Back at the station, Lauryne has been forced into a police gomesi and is now handcuffed to a chair in the interrogation room.

“Talk, dammit! Who are you working with!” bellows Detective Namutebi.

“I demand a lawyer. I have rights…” Lauryne protests, but she is cut short by Namutebi.

“Rights? You think this is some American TV show? You have no rights! No rights except maybe my right fist up your face if you don’t talk! Who are you working with? Who supplied the miniskirts?”

She is interrupted when Detective Sharon Nkata enters the room and calls her aside. “Bulldog, maybe you should let me handle this. You’re getting worked up. Get a glass of water.”

As Namutebi stomps out grumbling, her quieter, calmer colleague enters the room and pulls a chair up opposite the suspect.

“Look, Lauryne, you know we caught you in the act, wearing a flagrant miniskirt, in breach of the law. You know you’re going down for this. Why don’t you just make it easy on yourself by telling us who your dealer is? I’m not promising anything, but if you offer us your supplier, maybe we could reduce your charges or something.”

“The old good-cop bad-cop routine? You guys must think I was born yesterday,” Lauryne spits.

“You have been charged with first degree sexiness and malicious mini skirt wearing as well as kapalaring in public. These offences carry heavy penalties. Do you think you will survive a trial? The judge will take one look at you and see that you are guilty. Your only hope is to cut a deal,” Nkata urges on.

Lauryne sighs. Nkata is right. Even if the prosecutor doesn’t bring up her record of previous miniskirt felonies, she is undeniably extremely totally smoking hot and any court would see that a chick like her cannot fail to distract drivers. 

She sighs. The only way to save her really really awesome ass is to snitch. She has to give up the name of the miniskirt supplier.

 

 

By the way, what’s going on with Degstar? You know, dude here: http://2bnileavenue.blogspot.com/2007/01/commercial-break.html

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