I was going to post something serious but I posted this instead

Why? No idea. I'm bored and I have a headache, so, story time!

I'm generally considered a good sort of guy. I try not to get into trouble and I try not to be a complete jerk to people. Most people know I'm pretty friendly and wouldn't hurt anyone, at least not intentionally. I'm not trying to sound vain here, it's just how people see me. If you know me, you'll be like "Oh yeah, that's Wani."

So, with that said, I've been questioned by the police, complete with fingerprinting and all that stuff. It was pretty epic. Why?

Because I'm a hardened thug and a vandal. Apparently.



Okay, I'm not gonna go into the details here, hopefully for obvious reasons, but I wound up getting into a fight with my first girlfriend's parents. Long story short, they don't like me much. Or didn't, I have no idea what their opinion is of me now and quite frankly, I don't overly care. It's more-or-less irrelevant but in any case, they didn't like me.

Which culminated in one fine July night, when the police showed up at my mum's place (Where I still lived, what with me being 18 and barely out of school and all) wanting to question me. I was like "What? What for?"

Someone had thrown a beer bottle through the back window of their van and their first suspect was me.

I mean, on one level, it made sense. As far as they knew, I hated them as much as they hated me. But really? The thought of me going on a drunken rampage and flinging beer bottles at things because I don't like their owners is rather an insane thought. Everyone I've told this story to agrees.

But the police did have their job to do, and I wasn't going to be one of those knob-hat people you see on cop shows who are like "I DIDN'T DO NOTHING, I DUN HAVE TO ANSWER ANYTHING!" I mean, hell, I had nothing to hide, what could I possibly gain from that?

And besides. They asked me the best question I could possibly have been asked.

"What were you doing on the night of July 23rd?"

I had to make sure I didn't suddenly start giggling at being asked the ultimate detective-y police investigation-y type question in existence. Probably wouldn't have looked too good.

I answered that, and the rest of their questions (Which I honestly can't remember what they were, I just remember that one because it was awesome), then they told me they'd managed to lift a fingerprint off the bottle. Always a good thing, it almost certainly belonged to our mysterious culprit. And so, I got to go for a ride in the back of the police car, down to the police station where I was finger printed (That ink is messy as hell), then taken back home.

Never did hear from them again after that. I wasn't arrested, obviously, because, well, there was absolutely no evidence that I'd done anything, I had an alibi (Albeit a poor one, I'd been at home on my computer) and there was no evidence linking me to the crime. And so, I'm still somewhat curious about who the mysterious bottle-thrower was. All I know is what I was doing on the night of July the 23rd. Not throwing beer bottles.