Tomorrow is Saturday, and Saturday will find me at work. You see, I can clock as much overtime as I wish. And last weekend I got myself a nice shiny speeding ticket in my nice shiny new car, therefore: I’m working. To commemorate the occasion, I present to you a rarity around these parts: the poem.

‘Twas a rainy and dull afternoon
As I sped through the state.
Over the hills and ’round the curves,
My shiny bimmer did swoop
Till down one hill flew
A Georgia State Troop(er)

Oh what a sinking feeling
Did ‘er light in my gut
For ever I knew
I was stuck in a rut!

No begging nor pleading
Would turn his cold heart.
He wrote down the offense
And left with a nod -

And One Hundred and Seventy-Five Dollars.
Dammit.

And thus, I shall be a-workin’ tomorrow. The eight to five, all by my lonesome.

Update: Ever the helpful one, my cohort Chappie has posted a few tips for avoiding speeding tickets. I’m saved!