HITCHHIKER
The sports sedan sped gracefully down the freeway taking the curves with feline grace. Judge McKinley usually hated the 25 mile drive from his suburban dwelling to the district courts in the heart of the city, but the new sedan almost made it a pleasurable experience. Not quite, but almost.
From a distance McKinley could make out the figure of a man standing by the side of the road, his hand held up and a thumb sticking out of his otherwise clenched fist. McKinley screeched to a halt. Normally he would not have had the inclination to accommodate hitchhikers, but an opportunity to show off his car was too good to let pass. The hitchhiker was nattily dressed though he wasn?t very old, probably approaching middle age. He was surprisingly quick on his feet and was in the car in a flash. The first five minutes were spent in an uncomfortable silence. Then the judge spoke up, 'Beautiful fingers. Are you a pianist ?'
The hitchhiker grinned. Then with a gleam in his eyes, 'My fingers are the essence of my profession, you're right about that, but what I do takes a lot more skill than playing the piano. I'm a professional pickpocket.'
Judge McKinley was astounded at first , but soon decided that the man was obviously a nut and chose to keep quiet. Five minutes later, 'You don't believe me, do you guv'nor' Have a look on the dashboard.' From the corner of his eyes the judge glanced towards the dashboard and was shocked to see his own pocket watch, wallet and dentures strewn over it. Before he could react, the judge heard the distinctive roar of an approaching police car.
He was asked to pull up and a well- built young policeman approached the car. He whipped out a small black book and bent over to see the license plate of the sports sedan, and then wrote down the number in the book. 'Tough luck mister, but you were well over the speed limit.'
Judge McKinley would not believe the misfortune. He was due for a promotion, and a speeding ticket wouldn?t help matters one bit. The hitchhiker's voice snapped the judge out of his reverie, 'You look troubled guv'nor. Maybe this will cheer you up. ' Taking out the little black book, he handed it over to the judge.
---Gandhi@150(Courtesy Roald Dahl)