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So your unlicensed alpaca farm is surrounded by the police | Our Corner
Well now you've done it.
Nope, those helicopters aren't just flying over. Right there: one just circled around.
No, don't come look. If I had to guess, I would say the farther you are from an open window, the better.
In fact, now that I'm looking, there's an awful lot of headlights just sitting out there on the road.
Yep, no two ways about it: I think the cops have surrounded your unlicensed alpaca farm.
Hey, calm down, buddy. Yelling isn't going to make you any less screwed. Have a sip of water. Actually, you know what? I'll go pour you a glass of wine.
There you go. Good, right? Drink it slowly. Savor it. You won't be able to drink much better than pruno when you're in the joint for the next… oh, I don't know, five years?
Hey, what did I say about calming down? I didn't write the laws governing exotic livestock. That's big government stepping on the little guy. Yep, that's what that is: Big Wool, buying up our country one congressman at a time. Thanks, Obama.
Look, I'm big enough to admit it: I'm the guy who showed you the article about successful alpaca ranches.
Maybe I'm the one who used the phrase "guaranteed money." Maybe I'm the one who suggested the livestock permit application was an unreasonable expense. And maybe, just maybe, I suggested you would be fine jamming 24 animals in your one-bedroom apartment instead of wasting hundreds of thousands on grazing land.
But I was just looking out for your finances. I didn't put a gun to your head and tell you to stake your money and freedom on two dozen South American mini-llamas. I just said it was a good idea.
This is on you. You're the one who thought he could break bad, get into the alpaca game, rake in that sweet hippie money and get out. And that's where you made your mistake, because hippies don't have money. Oh sure, they say it's because they've dropped out of society, but we all know they're just useless. Them and punks. Bunch of Gen X whiners…
Oh, look: there go the red and blue lights. Won't be long now.
What? Of course 'break bad' is an expression. No, you wouldn't normally hear it up here, it's an American Southwestern thing. Well, I guess your grandma from Albuquerque just isn't with the times. You really haven't seen that show? Breaking bad?
You know: "Yeah, Mr. White! Yeah, science!"? Heisenberg? "I am the one who knocks?" No? Doesn't ring a bell?
See, this is what I'm talking about. If you hadn't bought those alpacas like I told you to do, you could have gotten cable like I'm telling you to do now. Instead of listening to past me, you should have listened to present me, which would have been future me at the time. Sheep.
Would you look at that! I mean, don't come and actually look, but there's a bee line of, like, 10 cops out there. Big guns, too. Hey, while you're running into the kitchen, can you grab me a pop?
No? Yes? Buddy? Well, while you're figuring that out, I'm going to answer the door.
Good evening, officer! Why, yes, these are alpacas behind me. No, I'm not the owner, you want my friend in the kitchen. Take a left, watch the poop, take a right, and you can't miss it.
And could you check if there's pop in the fridge while you're there?
This column is a work of fiction, and is not intended to represent or recreate factual events.