[ WP ] You are caught smuggling what you think is cocaine , but it turns out you were shipping bricks of flour .

Sitting on this stupid sticky seat in the back of the police cruiser, all I can do is think about what a mess I am. This was my big score. My salvation. The haul that was going to get me out of the life. I could jump off this stupid hamster wheel and be a normal person. 
 
 Instead, that was over. This was the biggest fuckup I've had. I could n't stop thinking about my mom. She was never going to look at me the same. She had always been proud of me. Thought I was doing well. I just bought a new house for me and the kids. I have a decent job that she thinks pays a lot more than what it actually does. She knows I have issues. The single mom thing hit her hard. She's traditional. But she had no idea I was truly her biggest nightmare and that I was actually a drug distributor. I'm not dramatic enough to think it would kill her. But she was never going to look at me the same. I was n't just hurting me. I was hurting her. Her friends would look at her differently. Would she even be able to be supportive? What would it be like for her when she had to take my kids in? How would she explain that to the kids? To her friends and neighbors? Ah man, this was no good. 
 
 I can see one of the cops pulling bricks of the white out of the back of the truck. He looks over at me in the back of the car. We both know there's not an explanation I can throw for how I am `` accidentally'' driving a box truck full of white into the state. I have n't said a word. There's nothing to say. 
 
 They already tested my saliva. Of course there was nothing there. I do n't do drugs. I'm a mom. Yeah, I supply to plenty of moms. I'm also a hypocritical mom. Now, the guys with the test kits are here and they are going to draw my blood. They told me this is how it's going to go. I could have a lawyer delay this, but I have nothing to worry about from the blood test. It's the sample they are testing from the truck that ends my life as I know it. I'm watching that happen in slow motion. It's like watching a train hit me head on and there is nothing I can do. 
 
 I look back at my shoes. I just ca n't watch. I know what's coming. There's a little tear sliding down my cheek, but my hands are zip tied together. I'm just trying not to think about my kids. I do n't know if I'll ever be able to think about them again, but I ca n't now. 
 
 The testing seems to take forever. The cops and their lab guys are all clustered together. The original cops who pulled me over are having a cop party now. All their pals are here. They're all clumped together, but when I peek over, it does n't look like a celebration. 
 
 Eventually, one of the original guys comes over to the car. He looks like he's about my age and would rather be sitting on a couch. He has thin, mousy brown hair and a hang-dog face that's a little too red from the sun. He's got a little belly and skinny arms. He looks sweaty, but it's hot out. They were nice and left the car and A/C on for me, so I feel fresh looking at him sweating. As he opens the door, I feel hot air suck into the car in my face. 
 
 `` What the hell are you doing with a truck full of flour in bricks?'' 
 
 I keep my mouth shut. We all know there is no way I can explain a box truck full of cocaine. I'll just keep silent and let them arrest me. There's nothing I can do to help myself. 
 
 `` Fucking flour. Why would you wrap it up like drugs? What the hell?'' 
 
 I stare at my shoes, but this is making me a little uncomfortable. Is this a trick? Um... my brain stalls out. 
 
 `` Look lady, what the fuck is going on here? I just want to know what's going on. No, I am not arresting you for a truck full of flour, but what the fuck? First I got ta figure out if you're trying to scam a major dealer or what. You're gon na get yourself killed!'' 
 
 He pauses. He's getting redder. 
 
 `` Lady, these are not people to mess with. You do n't seem to get it. Look, we ran you. You're squeaky clean. Are you messing with dangerous people here? Are you playing some game?'' 
 
 I looked up at him. He looked like my father when I did something stupid as a kid. A little confused and a little mad. Not sure which to go with. 
 
 `` I just want to make pies.'' 
 
 What? Why the hell would I say that? It was a joke at the office we made sometimes. My coworkers found out that I make good pies. I brought a couple in a few months ago and everyone loved them. I can make a key lime pie in my sleep and I really love pie. So I shared with my coworkers. Now, when things get a little crazy and someone asks me how it's going, I say, `` I just want to make pies''. We laugh and move on. 
 
 But why now? This does not seem the time for the in-joke from the office. 
 
 `` Pies! Pies. Are you fucking kidding me? Pies. You're going to make pies with a fucking truck full of flour wrapped up like drugs? They sell that shit at the GROCERY STORE.'' A little bit of spittle landed on my cheek. He was getting pretty worked up. I had clearly WAY fucked up. I should have stuck with saying nothing. 
 
 He kept raging, getting angrier and angrier, but I no longer heard what he was saying. My head was spinning. This could work. I had a box truck full of flour. Our new house had this little dumpy mother-in-law apartment with a little kitchen in the basement. It was ugly, but had a fridge, some cabinets, and a little oven. I like pies. The kids like pie. Geez. Everyone likes pie. I could make pies. 
 
 This stupid flour was n't going to cost me my life. I'd reached a status where I did n't buy my product on credit. I paid in full up front. My offshore account had covered this tidily. No one was going to hunt me down for the cash. But damn. They sold me flour! I should go after them. 
 
 No, no. I'm going to make pies. I'm going to make pies and sell them at the farmer's market. I'm making the best pies and my kids can sell them at a bake sale in our driveway. I'm going to ship pies ordered on the internet. I built this distribution system for the cocaine, I could certainly do it for pies. I smiled a little thinking about my future pie empire. 
 
 `` WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SMILING? YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?'' Oh boy. This cop is going to explode. There's got to be a limit to how red someone can get before they pop like a too-full balloon. I think he is there. 
 
 `` It was cheap.'' 
 
 `` What? What? Did you say cheap?'' 
 
 `` Yeah, the flour was so cheap that way. You know, I'm trying to start this pie business. But I do n't have a ton of money. I have kids. I got ta get my ingredients as cheap as I can.'' 
 
 `` Oh my god. Lady........Whatever. Oh my god.'' He slams the door in my face and walks back over to the other cops. They talk for another minute. 
 
 A different cop comes over and opens the door. He holds open the door and all he says is `` watch your head.'' I figure out that I should get out of the car. I do. He does n't say anything else. He cuts the zip tie off my hands. The other cops are getting in their cars and driving away. It's just me and the over-red ballon and this silent guy. I turn around to talk to Silent Bob and he just gets in the front of the cruiser and closes the door. Red Ballon gets in the driver's side and peels out onto the highway. 
 
 At the back of my truck, it's still open. Some grey Toyota drives by and slows down as the driver, an older guy, stares at the bricks in the back and the flour scattered around the remains of a few bricks on the ground. It looks like the cops smashed a couple of them. There are floury footprints all over the place. I just leave it all there and close the back of the truck. 
 
 The keys are just on the ground halfway up the truck. I pick them up and get in the front. I'm already wondering if I can make a good chocolate silk pie with caramel drizzle that would ship well. 
 

