Californication Highway Patrol

Roll down the window. Hands on the wheel. That’s right, ten o’clock and two o’clock. Engine off, car in gear. Not reverse! Jesus, you almost ran over my foot. Had anything to drink ? Did I ask what time it was? So you’re trying to tell me you’ve never had a four martini breakfast? On the way to work? Doesn't look to me like you’ve got a job. I’ll tell you how I know, you’re driving a yellow Tercel. A car, let's be honest here, suggests you might want to check the classifieds, upgrade to a dishwashing gig. Did I ask if it was funny? Hey, what’s that under the seat. No, I can’t see for myself. A Kleenex? Sorry, hotshot, but that looks like a concealed….oh, okay, so it’s a Kleenex. Fine. No, I don’t want to hold it. Listen, you keep this up, we’re working our way toward a major 10-26. What do you mean, what’s a 10-26? Don’t you watch TV? It’s a very serious infraction. No, I did not just make that number up. Who has time to stand on the side of the road making up numbers? So who’s that in the back seat? Doesn’t look like your daughter. She in a gang? Did I ask how old she was? No way that kid is six. I mean, yeah, I guess she is in a car seat. And I guess she is eating Chex Mix out of a Ziplock snack-size baggie. Wait, did that little lady just give me the finger? I could swear your kid just gave me the finger. Either that, or it was some kind of east coast/west coast gang sign. What do you mean you’re going to be late? Daycare’s not going anywhere. Shit, it’s hot out, you know it? And look at all these cars just streaming by, people texting, picking their noses. No one pays any attention any more. It’s all phone, app, phone, text, phone. I mean, half the accidents I get dispatched to are some chick too busy with the selfies to realize she’s about to drive up the back bumper of a meat truck. My old man always told me I should go to film school, but did I listen? Of course, he was a mean bastard who didn’t know his elbow from a can of creamed corn, so why would I listen to him? But still. I could be on set right now, bossing around Scarlett Johansen, yelling “that’s a wrap” every eight seconds, which would be pretty cool. I have a script. I mean, I haven’t written it yet, but I have this killer idea for a script. See, there’s this guy…no, it’s not about a cop. I mean yeah, okay, it is about a cop, but that’s total profiling. For all you know, my script could be one of those Meg Ryan love things where she meets a cop on top of the Empire State Building at the end. Which I guess is still about a cop, but whatever. I suppose you have a better idea? You do? Hey, that’s actually not half bad. No, I like the narrative build, although I think the third act probably needs some work, but I see it as being very high concept. Thing is, it would need just the right person to direct. No, I’m not talking about me. I mean, okay I am. What do you mean why do I keep talking about me? Listen, do you have any idea why I pulled you over today?”