Cocaina

            When Fred lived in Chicago he had a problem with cocaine. The problem followed him to Los Angeles when he moved there to keep his job. Fred worked for a television show called America’s Most Sought After. Fred’s cocaine habit was so bad he didn’t want to take a chance and not have cocaine when he got to Los Angeles, so he arranged with his dealer in Chicago to have the drugs sent to his place of work.             

            Fred wired money to his dealer and his dealer sent the drugs to America’s Most Sought After.

            The plan worked beautifully for months until one day Fred received a telephone call from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

            “We’ve noticed a substantial number of wires between Chicago and Los Angeles, from you to a man named Sergei Kochikyan. Do you know what this is all about?”

            Fred was instantly panic stricken. He froze for a moment, time traveled in light speed and without thinking he said, “You caught us. We were doing a story on the FBI and we wanted to know how long it would take for you to catch up with us. It didn’t take long. You guys are good!”                                   

            “You’re doing a story on us?”

            “Yes sir. Wait until I tell my supervisor. He’s not going to believe it! You guys are good, you guys are fantastic!”

The Dancing Bears

            My friend John had just got back into town from a vacation in Detroit. He was driving home from work. He works nights, so it was well after twelve o’clock. He had just picked up a twelve pack of beer at a local liquor store. He was almost home when he encountered a mob of unruly Mexicans teenagers. The kids jumped in front of his car and tried to impede his progress. The kids weren’t angry, but rather, they tried to intimidate John by dancing in front of him. They were like young dancing bears jumping about. One of the kids, the ringleader, had his arms up near his head with his fingers pointing toward the sky. He was hopping and rocking his arms back and forth while looking at John mockingly.

            “Okay,” John said. 
            He wasn’t amused. 

            John managed to get by the kids without incident. He parked his car and walked into his apartment. He cracked open a beer, sat down, and then he called the police.

            “Police department.”

            “Yes, I’d like to report a gang of Mexican kids who are harassing cars as they drive by on Alameda street.”

            It didn’t take long for three police cars to show up. All you have to say is a gang of Mexicans harassing people and the cops are sure to follow.

            When the kids saw the cops they scattered. One of the kids ran into John’s courtyard. As it turned out it was the ringleader. John walked outside and saw the ringleader and his girlfriend hiding in the bushes.

            “Excuse me, do you belong here?" John asked.

            The kids came out from behind the bush.

            “Honestly,” the ringleader said. “I’m hiding from the cops.”

            The ringleader didn’t recognize John, but John sure in heck recognized the ringleader.  The ringleader was looking to John for sympathy, but John wasn’t having it. John walked back into his apartment and called the police again.

            “Hi. I just called to register a complaint about the Mexican kids. Well, there’s a couple of them hiding in my courtyard. Do you need my address?”