This amazing small town police blotter blip comes to us all the way from Bozeman, Montana.
"Police helped a man who accidentally locked a set of handcuffs onto his wrists in South Hedges Hall around 3:40pm. Police removed the cuffs."
Dear sir who accidentally locked a set of handcuffs onto your wrists: what exactly were you doing when this occurred? Were you playing an intense game of 'cops and robbers' with your nine-year-old son when things got really real, really fast? Are you a retired cop who was demonstrating to a first grade class how to put handcuffs on a criminal? Or did you find yourself in a compromising position at a bachelor party after a costumed lady of the night asked you to put your hands behind your back?
Another thing I'd like to ask you, sir, is why this call occurred at 3:40pm. We're talking broad daylight. And even if the bachelor party lasted until the wee hours of the morning, I'm pretty sure you didn't spend 12 hours locked in those handcuffs before you managed to shimmy your way to a telephone so you could phone it in.
What else were you wearing when the police came to unlock you? Because I'm picturing boxer briefs and a pair of dress socks. MAYBE a wifebeater. Maybe.
And lastly, how did you manage to make the call to police? Did your lady friend help you dial the numbers? Did she hold the phone up to your ear while you told police about the embarrassing situation you found yourself in?
Sir, I hope you were released from the confinement of your handcuffs and have continued about your life with a lesson learned: even if they are covered in cheetah-print fur, they still have the capacity to incapacitate you. Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.