45 in a 30, I guess it's Daddy's luck day . . . or mine. Anything 45 and under he had wide discretion to deal with as he saw fit. Seeing as how he hadn't been relieved in 3 days, he decided to let me work it off, one minute for every mile over.

After he was done, he zipped up and told me that I was free to go, but that I still owed him for the two day backlog in his balls. I don't know how he figured that was my fault, but I wasn't about to argue.

So he stopped by over the next two days and made me work the stress out him, 15 minutes at a time. "If I see you out there again, it's gonna cost you at least a week" he warned, as he left the last time.

When he tells you he needs you to help him unload but his truck is empty.

Fortunately, his balls were full and that's what he needed help with.

Congratulations, it's been 30 days. Stop by and let me take care of that for you. You must be bursting.

Officer: “I thought you were gonna gimme a fucking hand to unload?"

Me: “How about two hands, a mouth, and a tongue?”