Who’s Preston?

Over the years we have developed a few traditions. One of which is that we all go out to lunch at least once a week. Typically we go on Friday, but due to the recent economic downturn we have been forced to reschedule this for Thursday. Not just a regular lunch, a more formal sit down menu in hand, lunch. Typically the discussion about where we are going to go for lunch starts around 10 AM, and doesn’t end until we actually start eating. Around 12:30 we head for the door. As we get to the parking lot we always stand by someone else’s car in a general hint that they are going to drive. On this out to lunch day we were all were standing by Blake’s car. Although he protested, we were not deterred, and he was forced to be our driver. Being our chauffeur is always a bad idea, as mentioned earlier we usually function on a 5th grade level. Radio presets are changed; personal items are rummaged through, commented on, then hidden or thrown out the window. On this day we had a wonderful and filling lunch at the local all you can eat china buffet. On the way back we were all doing our thing when I looked up and noticed the yellow light that we are approaching had been yellow for some time, then red. Still Blake had not slowed. I said “Blake red light!”. Someone else yelled “Cop!” as they noticed a cop sitting in the intersection waiting for us pass so they could turn left. Blake slammed on the brakes. Unfortunately his car pulled sharply to the left during hard braking, which made us swerve into the cop car that was now making close eye contact. Blake quickly realized he would not be able to stop before the intersection, and swerved back to miss the cop. We hadn’t even past the cop car before he turned on his lights and siren. Blake had obviously made an impression on the officer by his drunk like driving. “&%@$!” Blake said, as he quickly pulled over. We tried to act like adults, but when Blake handed the officer his license, and the officer said “Hello Preston” we couldn’t keep it together any longer. We all started laughing; the cop leaned down to get a better look at us. When he went back to his car, Blake yelled “What is wrong with you guys?!”. Preston, who’s Preston? “That’s me!” Blake yelled back. We had stopped laughing when the cop came back, until someone in the back of the car yelled “Officer, that’s a beautiful smile, do you whiten?” Then, not even Blake could hold it in. Needless to say Preston signed for his ticket.