Neighbours had complained to the mayor about the noisy pub on the corner of 3rd & Lambourne. Seems that the old cronies got together every friday & saturday, played cards, drank beer, told lies and jokes till 2am Saturday morning, when the pub had to close.

Officer Redding, parked down the street was not amused. He checked his watch, noted it was 01:55, time for the old drunks to start leaving. If he hadn’t been assigned this crap detail he’d be down at the I-80 Truck stop about now having a nice hot cup of coffee. Redding pulled out a cigarette and was about to light up when the door of the pub slammed open and an old geezer stumbled out. Redding put the smoke back in the pack; he was ‘on point’ now. The old man stumbled around, fished his car keys out of his pocket, dropped them a couple of times, finally found them and weaved down the sidewalk and across the road to his car. Redding started his engine, watching carefully as the old man fumbled to unlock his door. Other patrons leaving the pub seemed a little tipsy, but nothing like the old goat trying to get into his car. As soon as the old man’s car started to pull away from the curb, Redding was on him like a hound on a bone, siren, red lights and loud speaker. Redding wanted these complaining neighbours to know the city was doing it’s job.

“Outta the car, old man!” demanded Redding.
“But officer, I haven’t had anything to drink!” complained the old man.
“Sure, you haven’t, old timer, sure you haven’t”, replied Redding as he put on the cuffs on the old man and hauled him downtown.

At the station, the old man blew into the breathalyzer, and the needle didn’t move.

“What the… YOU haven’t been drinking, old timer!” Redding exclaimed.
“But that’s what i tried to tell you back there, officer!” explained the old man.
“Well then why were you stumbling all over the place?” asked Redding.
“Well, officer, tonight when we all got to the pub, they elected me to be the ‘designated drunk’ when the place closed down!”