Anarchy is alive and well.

So I woke up this morning to the usual sounds of our neighbor Frank's car backfiring. This wouldn't be so bad, but it happens all the time - at all hours of the night. Frank is a nice guy, with a rather shy disposition, but he simply keeps the strangest hours. And his beat up jalopy is simply the noisiest car on the block. Another neighbor once yelled at him in a fit of rage, and Frank just dove into his house, quivering. But his wife does make the best cookies - she brought them to the last block party.

I digress.

At breakfast, my wife gave me the mail from yesterday, and I found the shocking (and I say that with all the sarcasm that I can muster) notice that the League of Fairness simply was not allowed by some legal technicality to reimburse me for the car. They did, however, send me a signed picture of Mighty Mighty Fred and Eddie the Eagle - smiling like the cheap saps they are, along with an offer to tow away the battered wreck.

This is stupid, but I figured that it didn't really matter - so I had the wife give them a call.

An annoying way to start the day!

After a wonderful breakfast (I am married to the best woman on this planet!), I got dressed and headed to work on the pink bicycle. The teenagers on the corner hooted with derision as they normally did, but I simply zoomed by, imagining me hitting MMF with the car, and have him fly two miles.

Happily wrapped up in this wonderful daydream, I was nearly run over by a black Corvette that flew down the road. The car was weaving around, and I saw a young man leaning out the window - holding some sort of firearm. I pulled the bike to a stop, and simply stared as the car turned the corner on two wheels. More criminals - what a surprise.

As I sat there watching, I was completely flummoxed to find myself hurtling to the ground. As I lay there for a moment, stunned and bleeding a bit, I saw a man getting onto the bike. I shouted out "Thief!", but he merely grimaced and flashed a police badge at me.

"Sorry, man! Police emergency!"

And without another word he began to pedal down the street on the bike, disappearing around the corner, waving a automatic in the air. Presumably he was chasing the car, but I had no idea how he was going to catch it.

But the jerk took my bike (or my daughter's bike)! He couldn't just stop one of the many cars in the intersection, or go off on foot, or call a taxi - he had to use a pink bicycle.

I arrived at work late, and suffered through a fit of rage from my boss when he saw me come in - only to have it transform into a fit of laughter as he found out what happened. I hate my job.

I called the Urbanopolis police department later that day, and found out that Detective Jack Steel was the one who took the bike. Apparently he managed to use the bike to stop the criminals he was chasing, and somehow cause a five car pileup at the same time. The police informed me that the bike was missing at the current time, and that they would get back to me. I snidely told them that my daughter would cry for weeks, and slammed the phone down. (She likely won't even notice the bike missing).

It's just a pink bicycle - but at the same time, I don't understand why the police have these powers over the people. My aunt's car was once requisitioned by a police detective duo, who proceeded to chase down the criminals while she was in the back seat - and she never even heard an apology! There is no authority over these idiots - the police receptionist sounded as if she was laughing when she told me about the bike! Supposedly I should be grateful that I helped stop crime. Buy your detectives their own bike with my tax money, and I'll be more grateful, lady!

I should write a letter to the editor of Urbanopolis Times, but my wife assures me that it won't do any good, and we don't need to attract the attention of one of the dozens of serial killers in this city.

It's two AM, and I should be in bed, but that stupid car just backfired again. One of these days I'm going to throttle Frank, nice guy or not.

Still outraged,

Jay