Felony Stop

All we wanted was ice cream. Dairy Queen Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Blizzards, to be exact. But, it’s never that simple when you’re a couple of fatties going for ice cream you really don’t need. Oh no.

Let me tell you the story of how an innocent trip to the local DQ ended up in a felony stop. Yes, you read that right.

It was my senior year, and the stress of finals, coupled with the decision to wear heels to graduation (and inevitably be that person who falls on the stage) or not was weighing on me something fierce. I coped as I always have and always will-with carbs.

I convinced my mom to go on a ride to Dairy Queen (my mom loves going on rides. She’s like a Labrador Retriever in that way. If anyone even starts to say “car”, she’s at the door with the keys dangling out of her mouth). I knew I could win her over with the promise of a Sunday car ride and a sundae. Also, I “accidentally” forgot my wallet, so it was shaping up to be a real win.

Back in the day, my mom had a real jalopy for a car. It was an 80s era Toyota Tercel hatchback. It had more rust spots than paint. It smelled of decades old farts and spilled milk. It had rubber bumpers. Sometime I’ll have to tell the story of when my brother tried to ride my bike and didn’t know where the brakes were as he came careening down the hill opposite our house, and he crashed into the Tercel. Except, he didn’t crash into it. Tire hit bumper, and because both were made of rubber, he was catapulted back up the hill, backward. Oops, I guess I told the story.

OK, so back to the real beauty that was this car. It was so hideous, that I requested my mom drop me off and pick me up blocks away from school or any function, for that matter. The driver’s seat was disintegrating, so, ever the handy man, my dad put it back together with duct tape and a Reno Hot August Nights ’93 t-shirt. He also installed the new CD player with pencils, so you can only imagine the extent of his handiwork. The point? The car was a real piece.

I SO wish I had a picture of that car. Since I don’t, here’s a picture of two very innocent-looking, non-felons.

Now, because my family can’t just simply go for ice cream like normal people, we had to take the dog who hated car rides and would start dry heaving the moment you pulled out of the driveway. Why my mom thought it was necessary to bring good ol’ Buttons to get ice cream, I cannot recall.

So, off we went, two fatties and a severely car sick dog, to the Dairy Queen.

The ride there was uneventful. As we were ordering our Blizzards, my mom said to me, “I wonder what that skinny, little thing thinks when she sees two fat people roll up after ordering the most fattening items on the menu?”

We proceeded to have a laughing fit as we were handed our ice cream. So, not only did the young DQ worker think we didn’t need any ice cream, she probably also figured we were nuts to boot. Oh well, what can you do?

So, all this laughing and hubbub started distressing our poor dog, who was pretty well green around the gills. My mom decided that Buttons would feel better if she sat in the front. I tried to explain that she likely wouldn’t look out the front and suddenly feel fine, because she was a DOG, but alas, I had to give up the front to the dog.

My mom turned down a side street. I got out-did I forget to mention that I was wearing my pajamas and slippers? Oh, well. Yeah. I was wearing a pair of faded, Betty Boop pajama pants and these uber hideous pink furry slippers, that had seen better days. I was also wearing a cami tank with no bra. I looked like a real beauty. I hadn’t planned on even leaving the car, so I hadn’t changed out of my Sunday-laundry-day-fashion-statement.

I quickly made leave of the front seat, Buttons sprang to the front, panting and dry heaving, and then we were off again.

In hindsight, we realized that my mom probably wasn’t driving very attentively. She was likely swerving, driving far too slowly, and braking like an 80-year-old driver coming up to a stoplight a mile away. It probably didn’t look good.

Also, it likely looked strange to anyone watching, that I was in the backseat. Either my mom was the very first Uber driver, before anyone knew what Uber was, or something shady was going on. Obviously, no one saw the small dog that my mom was petting and talking to as she drove and ate her Blizzard, all at the same time. 

After a couple blocks of this ridiculousness, we suddenly noticed flashing lights. We figured someone was getting arrested, or there was a drug bust (the Dairy Queen wasn’t in the best neighborhood). A couple blocks more and we still saw lights reflecting off the myriad duct tape in the car. We suddenly realized that a cop had been tailing us.

I was mortified.

“Mom! You’re getting pulled over! OMG! How embarrassing! What did you do??”

My mom had zero clue what she could have done (surely it wasn’t the erratic-eating-ice-cream-while-soothing-your-insane-dog-driving).

She started laughing. I, however, did not think being pulled over, in the ghetto, while eating a large Blizzard, with no bra on was a laughing matter.

Suddenly, we heard, “Put your hands up-where we can see them!”

“Um, what? Are they talking to us?”  I hissed.

More laughing from my mom. At this point, I started laughing too, because who has ever heard those words uttered, but for on TV??

We obviously didn’t realize they were talking to us, because we heard even more loudly and more mean, “Put your hands up! Driver-with your right hand, left hand still up, turn your engine off, and throw your keys out of the window!”

What in the actual fuck.

My mom responded to no one in general, “Well, how am I supposed to do that? I’m not a freaking acrobat!”

“Mom just figure it out!” I scream-whispered. 

With her head out the window, my mom responded to the cops, “You will have to wait a minute. I need to find a place to put my ice cream down where my barfing dog won’t get at it.”

Mom. 

At this point, I was just wondering how long I’d have to keep my hands up, because my arms were getting really tired.

People were beginning to look out their windows and point. It was beyond ridiculous.

Eventually, Houdini figured out how to put her ice cream down, keep her left arm up in the air and throw her keys out the window with the other hand.

The cops barked, “Driver, slowly get out of the vehicle, hands up!”

My mom was muttering under her breath, “What the fuck. Are you serious? For what? Is it against the law for fat people to get ice cream on Sunday?”

“Mom, just do what they say!” 

I was incensed. I was mad, embarrassed, and my arms felt like jello.

Suddenly, through the loud speaker, for all of Reno to hear, “Drop your weapon!”

I thought, with utter horror, “Does my mom have a freaking weapon? Has she gone mad?!” It took just a moment to realize that they were referring to me. They were referring to the blizzard I still had in my hand. They thought my Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Blizzard was a fucking weapon.

I can’t even at this point. I’m beyond confused. As I had never been pulled over at this stage in life, I was thinking that, surely, not all traffic stops involved this level of insanity? Surely not. Did we mistakenly pick up a dead body that we had unknowingly been dragging behind our vehicle? Did someone plant drugs in our car? Did my mom run down someone in a wheel chair?

Amidst another loud speaker demand that I put down my “weapon”, came my mom’s voice, “Don’t shoot her! It’s not a weapon! It’s a Dairy Queen Blizzard!”

When it was over, we learned that I fit the description of a mad woman who was running the streets, trying to stab people with a pair of scissors. There were five cop cars, and every cop had their weapons drawn. On me.

Fab.

The police thought I had my mom held hostage in her own car with my scissors, er, Blizzard. If I thought I was mad, my mom gave those cops such a Mom Lecture. Their ears were burning by the time she was done with them. She was aghast that her soon-to-be-college-student-goody-goody-daughter would ever be confused for a mad woman. She also wasn’t thrilled that guns were drawn on her kid, who could have made a false move with her “dangerous” weapon. Who knows what could have happened? *shudder*.

My dad got my mom this shirt. I don’t think he knows what “fierce” means lately, but both definitions apply 😂😉.

Kiddies, this is why you shouldn’t go to Dairy Queen when clearly what you really need is some exercise and a bowl of kale.

Obviously, I didn’t learn my lesson that ice cream is bad for you. I did learn, however, to always put on a bra when leaving the house. Also, only homicidal maniacs wear their slippers out in public.

Author: fattymccupcakes

Just a thirty-something girl trying to love herself the way she is: fat, rolls, cellulite, and fabulousness.

85 thoughts on “Felony Stop”

  1. What the actual. HAHAHAHAHA

    Years ago the ex and I were house-sitting for a couple – their alarm went off so we drove up there (pretty much to BFE) to shut it off….We didn’t realize that tripping the alarm (thank you, effing squirrels) would call the police. So we were checking the place out, opening and closing doors, and opened up one to see an officer with gun drawn…and of course our IDs didn’t SAY we were supposed to be there….

    All was cleared up eventually, but I didn’t get any ice cream out of it. Sadness.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. This would be a comedy thriller of sorts…if the mad woman lookalike would have showed up and asked the cops to let you eat in peace…before…OK. My mind is going to dark places. Glad it was all laughs in the end!:-)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Ok, this is one of my favorite Katie stories yet!! I witnessed my first felony stop a couple months ago, and I read this picturing you and your mom in place of the vehicle-stealing, meth-and-heroin-dealing thugs I watched our police take down. Hilarious!!! Still laughing….

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I don’t have any fun stories like that but back in the day I lived in a shady neighborhood downtown. I woke up one morning and staggered out onto my porch, braless of course, total bed head, in PJs, for my morning coffee and cigarette (yes, I kicked that habit) only to find the entire street filled with cops and search dogs, circling helicopters, and reporters-who all wanted to talk to me because my house was where it was. Ooof.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. OMG…I so needed this laugh this morning.

    Now…while I’ve never heard of anyone getting all stabby with a sweet, cold treat – them plastic spoons could easily be transformed into a wicked shiv with a little abrasion and a lot of elbow grease…so yea…that Blizzard could be considered an accessory WMD (weapon of mass deliciousness).

    I’ll bet the officers used this paper-thin excuse to pull you over in an attempt to confiscate said WMD, because they’re too cheap to go get their own.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. O. M. G. Katie I just nearly choked reading that whilst eating my breakfast!
    Seriously, the scrapes you get yourself into!!
    But then, maybe the ice cream was worth it? 😜

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I started profusely chuckling at the thought of your mum at the door with her keys in her mouth and didn’t stop the whole way through. Just brilliant…. it could have been worse, you could have been wearing leggings!

    Liked by 2 people

  8. My brain doesn’t know what to do with this – I’m laughing hysterically, and freaking out over how far south this situation could’ve gone. Who knew Blizzards could be so dangerous? LOL! And that picture of your mom in her fierce shirt is the stuff of legends.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. This is SUCH a good story!
    You and your mum both sound hilarious and good fun. 🙂

    p.s. I was just thinking I have read so many similar accounts of cops pulling people over with really scary consequences. I am really glad they noticed you were armed with a blizzard, not a weapon!

    p.p.s There is a picture of you and your mum, and you’re not fatties. You probably need more ice-cream.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Oh man!!! This is equal parts hilarious and horrifying!! I am so sorry the cops did that!! I mean, I am glad that they were trying to protect your mom obviously, but I agree with your mom’s “mom lecture” — that sounds very extreme for theme to wave guns at you for holding a Blizzard!

    Lesson duly noted about proper Dairy Queen attire! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s