Pretty on the Outside

Image, my friend Michael likes to tell people, is everything. He runs a modeling agency and it's his business to know. What may be pretty on the outside, however, does not always reflect the inner reality. This does not concern him in the slightest as he makes his living from superficiality and outward appearances - and more power to him - but for the rest of us, sometimes the underneath shoves it's way through and it can be ugly and evil tempered.

He had decided to take the Mercedes convertible out as it was a pretty day. He knew the tags were expired and the inspection sticker out of date and when he was pulled over, he was resigned to a stiff fine and a stern lecture. He had - in a rare display of good sense and diplomacy - decided against righteous indignation in favor of honesty and courtesy. He would take his medicine. He did not anticipate being arrested on the spot, They actually handcuffed me! he told me, horror stricken, and took me to jail! He was fingerprinted and photographed and put into a cell, treated like a criminal and forced to wait to be bailed out.

Bet you pulled him right off the golf course! the old hag matron cackled to the arresting officer. Nope, the cop told her, Just a traffic stop.
Well, then, she cackled some more, Bet it was a big ol' fancy Cad-de- lack!
Nope, the officer told her with a grin, Just a purty, lil' silver Mur-say-dees.

Some four hours later, bailed out and badly shaken by the experience, Michael returned home in a frenzy of fury and humiliation. Rubbing elbows with the great unwashed is not something he does willingly or well. It's a scam! he told me with heartfelt and sincere indignation, The city is cracking down because they need money! I was victimized!

You broke the law, I pointed out, what did you expect?
Not to be taken to jail! he wailed, Not for a traffic violation!

I couldn't help it, picturing him being handcuffed was bad enough, but as he described being fingerprinted and put unceremoniously into a cell to await his 'phone call, I began to laugh. The more he railed, the harder I laughed.
What in hell is funny about this? he demanded and I couldn't even begin to answer.

If image is everything, his had taken a distinct wrong turn.