Officer Aunt Ruth to you, fella.
As soon as I saw the flashing blue lights in the rear view mirror, I looked around to see what car might have been the offending vehicle. I saw no other car.
I was certain it wasn’t my car that was being pulled over — I wasn’t going more than 36 or 37 miles per hour in a 35 mph zone. Perhaps my tail light wasn’t working. Whatever the case, I knew that the prudent course of action to take at that juncture involved pulling to the side of the road and allowing the police officer to do his duty. I have nothing but total respect for law enforcement officials — it’s a tough job and overall they handle it quite well.
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I lowered my window as the officer walked toward my car. The officer, wearing a hat with the brim pulled down so that it sat just above the shade-covered eyes, was female. When she reached my window, she whipped out her pistol and yelled, “Freeze, trash!”
“Pardon?” I asked.
“I said freeze, trash!” she repeated.
I recognized that voice. It couldn’t be she.
“I’m, uh, I’m frozen,” I stammered.
“Put your hands above your head,” she ordered.
“Yes ma’am,” I said, quickly complying.
“Now get out of your vehicle,” she commanded.
I reached for the door handle.
“Freeze!” she yelled. “I said to put your hands above your head. Keep them there.”
“How am I to open the door to get out of my car?” I asked in a calm voice.
“Don’t you try to be smart with me, young man. I know your type. Now get out.”
With my hands still above my head, I climbed out the car window. It wouldn’t have been so bad except I tripped and landed flat on my face. My hands remained above my head the entire time, however.
“Now put your hands on the car. Move slowly, mister, or I’ll pump you so full of lead that they’ll paint you yellow and write a big number two on your forehead.”
I was certain of the identity of this officer.
“Aunt Ruth,” I said. “When did you become an officer and why the rough treatment?”
She flashed her badge. “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to …”
“Aunt Ruth,” I began again.
“Officer Aunt Ruth to you, my criminal nephew!” she exclaimed.
“Criminal nephew? What did I do?” I asked.
“What did you do? What did you do?” she repeated. “You broke 755-HR, excessive speeding; in addition, since that flagrant violation, you have broken 1406-SB and 2297-RBI, obstructing justice and arguing with an officer of the law.”
“But I haven’t argued with an officer,” I argued.
“Now you have,” she countered. “Those laws comprise the safety regulations for this fair city.”
“No, Aunt Ruth, you’ve got it backwards.”
She lifted her hat up off her head, made sure the front was facing forward, and put it back on.
“I’ve got what backwards?” she asked.
“Comprise. The regulations comprise 755-HR and whatever the other ones were. The 755-HR and the others don’t comprise the regulations.”
“Good grief, you ferocious felon. How am I supposed to keep that straight?” she demanded.
“Think of comprise as being include or embrace,” I suggested.
“The regulations comprise; the regulations include; the regulations embrace … okay, I think that will work for me,” she said smiling.
“So may I go now?” I asked hopefully.
“Freeze!” she said again, pointing the pistol at me.
“Aunt, I mean Officer Aunt Ruth, please don’t point that thing at me,” I asked, somewhat concerned for my safety.
“Oh I’ve been through all the marksmanship courses,” she boasted. “I can shoot this thing so accurately that I could shave your whiskers from two hundred yards.”
“Two hundred yards? Surely you’re not serious.”
“I’m totally serious. Pistol training, rifle training, machine gun training, and coffee making comprise our firearm training,” she replied.
“Backwards Aunt Ruth,” I reminded her. “Think of include.”
“Oh yes. Our firearm training comprises pistol training, rifle training, machine gun training, and coffee making.”
“That’s better. Coffee making?”
“Coffee steadies the hands. Now watch this.”
She handed me a pair of binoculars. “Look through these things at that sign post. That post is about two hundred yards away.”
I obeyed her order.
“Now,” she said. “Do you see a fly buzzing around that sign post?”
“Yes,” I replied. I did see the fly, small though it was.
“Watch this.”
BANG!
She took one shot, startling the daylights out of me. I could still see the fly buzzing around the sign post.
“Aunt, uh, Officer Aunt Ruth, I still see the fly. You missed it.”
“Darling nephew, I did not miss the fly. Indeed, due to my fine shooting skills, that fly will never have kids again. Its mating days are over.”
“So Officer, was I really speeding?” I asked.
“Oh sure. I clocked you going 35.8 mph in a 35 mph zone. Technically that’s speeding.”
I sighed.
“I’ll let you off the hook this time,” she said gruffly.
Then she smiled. “Really, darling nephew, I just wanted you to see my new pistol. They gave it to me as a gift for my work in keeping our city safe from crime.”
“But Aunt, uh, Officer Aunt Ruth, we don’t have crime in this city,” I argued.
“Exactly. When did crime disappear from this area?”
“Oh, perhaps two years ago,” I estimated.
“Precisely my point. I’ve been on the force for just over two years. Now, run along. I’ve got to be going myself. My Taekwando lessons start in fifteen minutes.”
“You’re taking Taekwando?” I asked, amazed.
“Taking it? Heavens no. I’m teaching it.”
I find Aunt Ruth hilarious. 
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