Racist Police

31 Aug

It was a Saturday afternoon and I was 13.  For a change, my mate and I weren’t kicking a ball about or climbing trees in the woods. Instead, we were in the middle of a corn field messing around with matches, as you do when you’re that age. We’d got a small fire going and rejoiced in its fiery glow. However, within minutes the small, innocent fire had grown to quite a large, angry fire, and it was spreading fast. We did what any normal teenagers would do, and ran like the wind, leaving the fire to what it pleased.


As we neared the road at the end of the field, two policemen appeared and told us to stop. My heart was in my mouth as I’d never been in trouble with the police before. I think Mr. Turtle may have popped his head out to see what the fuss was all about, but thankfully he slipped back inside to whence he came.


“We’ve been called about two youngsters setting fire to a field”.


We all looked behind us and the smoke was now thick black, forming a blanket. The end of the field was hidden from view and the flames were getting bigger. Quick as a flash, my mate piped up,


“We saw two Asian fellows running the other way. We’ve just come to get help”


And with that, the policemen ran off across the field in pursuit.


The police are racist.

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