Serialization of the WACKY MISADVENTURES of WARBLE McGORKLE - CHAPTER 10 (of 70)
Warble Steals a License Plate from a Police Station
CHAPTER 10
Warble Steals a License Plate from a Police Station
“Miss Mary, I just thought of something.”
“I thought I heard a strange noise.”
“Hardy har har. Very funny,” Warble retorts impatiently. Actually, he wishes he had thought of that line himself; he stores it away for future use.
“Seriously, now, Miss Mary. We still have Wisconsin plates on our little jewel here,” he says, patting the dashboard of the PT Cruiser affectionately. "We can't go driving around the South with 'America's Dairyland' plastered all over our car's backside.”
“We can't?”
“Heck no! We need some local plates. When we get to Looz-e-anna, we'll remove our plates, hide them under the carpet in the trunk of the car, and borrow some from somebody.”
“Borrow? So you do plan on giving them back?”
“Oh, sure, eventually.”
“Are you going to ask before borrowing these plates?”
“Mary, what do you think I am, insane? Always remember--it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission. And if you don't get caught, it's even easier.”
The McGorkles drive through Mississippi without incident. Warble daydreams about the trip made in 1814 down 'the mighty Mississip' as made famous by Johnny Horton in his song The Battle of New Orleans; also about grade school spelling bees, as made intolerable by Mrs. Buchstabieren, his 6th grade teacher, who had the most irritating way of speed-spelling the name of the state. Tupelo makes him think of Van Morrison, and honey; Pascagoula conjures up thoughts of Ray Stevens, streakers, and squirrels; and Hattiesburg of former Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Favre.
Warble is lost in a reverie filled with corncob pipes, island getaways, river rats, rafts, buried treasure, and caves when he is jolted out of his semi-trance by a giant billboard:
WELCOME TO LOUISIANA
After stopping for supper at Citizen Page and filling up on cheeseburgers and fries, the McGorkles hit the road again. It won't be long, and they'll be in the New Orleans suburb of Westwego, where Warble knows he can 'hole up awhile' with his old friend H.R. Brooks.
Warble's head is on a swivel. He begins to get impatient, frantic almost, about snagging a Louisiana license plate. A car dealership? Nah, too many glad-handing, fake-smiling phonies always nosing around, looking for a sucker.
All of a sudden Warble spots the perfect place to pull in and make a quick switcheroo: the Slidell Police Station. Several of the police officers' private vehicles are parked out back. Warble doesn't see anybody around; there aren't even any windows facing the parking lot. Who would patrol the police parking lot? It's the safest place of all to 'borrow' a license plate.
As Mary realizes what Warble's intentions are, she objects, “Warble, the police station? Can’t you find a safer place to pilfer a plate? How about some roadhouse or saloon? At least then you could swap plates with some town drunk or dim-witted truck driver.”
“Mary, watch what you say! Some of those 'dim-witted truck drivers,' as you so ignorantly and rudely refer to them, are the sagest philosophers of our time. Didn't I ever tell you about Dipstick, the trucker I once met--”
“Yes, I remember you telling me something about Dipstick, Warble. Tell me, can you really take a person who goes by that nickname seriously?”
“I don't think it was a nickname, Mary. Anyway, I have respect for that profession, and not just because they all have tire irons. Police, on the other hand, are afraid to fire off their guns, because if they do, they have to fill out reams of paperwork.
“Not only that, don't you know that all Southern cops are inept buffoons? Didn't you pay attention when we watched Smokey and the Bandit? I hate to say it, Miss Mary, but I'm afraid you really need to improve in your skills of data detection, deduction, extraction, and extrapolation. A po-lice station is far and away the best place to swipe a license plate.”
As is usually the case, Mary sees that further debate is futile. She wonders why she didn't marry Otto the sausage maker. He was born boring, got fat at 25, and was bald by 30, but at the moment those attributes don't seem so bad to her. There are worse things than being boring.
As Warble parks his PT Cruiser between a couple of cars, he notices a pickup parked nearby that has a confederate flag license plate holder. As he springs out of his car, snatching a screwdriver from underneath the seat as he does, Warble tells Mary to keep a lookout and, if she doesn't see anybody by the time he gets the plate off the car they are parked next to, he'll scramble over to the pickup and grab its license plate holder while he's at it.
Mary considers arguing with Warble, but knows that resistance would be hopeless and only prolong the misery. She tries to appear as nonchalant as possible while gazing in all directions to try to detect any suspicious-looking people (that is to say, any people who are looking at Warble and herself as if they are suspicious).
Monitoring the proceedings in her passenger-side mirror, Mary can see Warble twisting the screwdriver as fast as he can. The rotations seem interminable. When Warble finishes unscrewing the license plate from the police car, he looks up at Mary to see if it's safe to go for the confederate license plate holder on the pickup. Mary wants to motion to him to get back in the car. She just wants to get away from there, and the sooner the better.
Mary hesitates, though, because she hasn't spotted anybody watching them.
Warble reads the hesitation correctly and is over at the pickup before Mary can decide whether to gesture him back to the car.
It seems an eternity before Mary finally sees Warble crawling along the ground, with his screwdriver clamped between his teeth, and wearing the holder on his head. He's trying to look military, or at least para-military, but in actuality looks more like a horseshoe crab with a hitch in his getalong.
Warble opens the door quickly but silently and slides into the seat as if nothing untoward is happening. “Nice job, Moll…I mean Miss Mary,” he says.
As they pull back onto the road, past the police station and out of town, Warble slaps the dashboard all-of-a-sudden, startling Mary.
“Now all we need is a gun rack, with a shotgun in it!” he cries.
“In a PT Cruiser?”
“Sure; why not?”
Mary knows that Warble won't give up his PTC -- it’s his pride and joy--and won't be able to understand how ridiculous a gun rack would look in one. She objects vociferously to his idea of storing a firearm in their vehicle.
“No guns, Warble! No guns! No gun racks, and no guns!”
Making off with watermelons and 'borrowing' license plates is one thing, but Mary knows that Warble and guns wouldn't mix well at all -- somebody, somehow, would get hurt, either intentionally or otherwise.
Warning bells go off in Warble's mind -- he recognizes the tone Mary used and realizes, at some submerged level of consciousness, just how infrequently her objections reach that magnitude of intensity, and intuits that this is a situation in which he would do well to sue for peace.
Warble searches his mind for a graceful way out. After all, he doesn't want to appear to be capitulating, for what might that lead to?
~^@^~~^@^~~^@^~~^@^~~^@^~~^@^~
You can listen to this chapter here:
the Wacky Misadventures of Warble McGorkle is being serialized daily here on substack during the summer of 2021 (late June to early September).
NOTE: The second volume is the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle; the third volume (currently in progress, with episodes available on Vella)
is Warble McGorkle’s Delusional Visions of Paradise.
the Wacky Misadventures of Warble McGorkle can be purchased here: