His hands almost shook when he read the letter. It was printed on an old-style line printer. The letterhead was that of the District Attorney, and he was the addressee.
“The defendant is find guilty of all of the charges. For reckless driving the sentence is 20 days in prison, an open container of alcohol in a vehicle is 20 days in prison. For disturbing the peace 20 days in prison. All of the prison sentences are to be served consecutively.” stood on the letter.
“I guess I made a really poor decision. That’s an real understatement!” he thought. Speeding and trying to loose the police who tried to pull him over wasn’t the cleverest thing to do.
Now he was faced with this letter. It indicated that a warrant had been sworn out for his arrest. The Crown agreed to drop the charge of avoiding arrest, but they wouldn’t budge on other driving offenses. He never dreamed that he could land in prison! For two months!
He was to report to the Police Station within 3 days to turn himself in to face the charges, or a warrant would be issued for his arrest and he would face charges that could result in an additional two year sentence in prison.
His heart raced as he entered the Police Station, and approached the information officer at the front desk.
The receptionist was a blonde woman, a quite beautiful police matron. She smiled at him. He handed her the letter he had received.
The receptionist looked him up and down. “Follow me, please.”
She led him to a small cubicle. “Please step inside and remove all items of clothing.”
He stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind him. He stripped down to his boxer briefs. He then waited. He heard a voice, “Please step out of the cubicle.”
He stepped out. The reception again looked him up and down. Years of sport and gym had given him a tight, firm body. A set of abdominal muscles were his proudest feature.
“The prisoner must remove all items of clothing.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be given prison attire.”
He stepped back inside the cubicle and pulled off his boxer briefs. He had a vision of himself in an orange prison jumpsuit. He stepped back out, naked. The receptionist grabbed all his clothes and possession and locked them away in a nearby locker. He stood naked, shivering.
“What am I supposed to wear?”
There was the briefest hint of a smirk on the receptionist’s face. She opened another locker and reached in and grabbed what appeared to be a small piece of white material. She handed the material to him.
He unfolded the material. It was a pair of shorts. White. Made from what appeared to be shiny PVC.
“Awww, man, what’s this? I can’t wear these.”