Photo Credits: mediaserver.adevarul.it
I discovered this great post here and thought to make my own list of things I will carry in my pocket for the sole purpose of confusing the police in the event of my untimely death. I don’t have that much time, therefore I’ll just replace things. So:
I (also) hope to live a long and multiple award-winning (Effie, Pulitzer, whatever works) life, but in the event of my untimely death my last thoughts will be on the Romanian police officers rifling through my pockets as they investigate the crime. In addition to my wallet and house keys they will find:
1. An elaborate treasure map leading to Traian Basescu’s garden. This way, I make sure Realitatea and Antena 3 will go insane and pay an insanely expensive medium to bring my spirit back in order to have it talking bullshit in prime-time.
2. A note of warning that starts:
“Dear Sergeant Popescu, you are in grave danger! Trust no one!“
I know the chances aren’t good that a Sergeant Popescu will be the first one to check my pockets, but if he does, wow!
Note: Okay, people, relax… I promise I will write in Romanian every note addressed to the policemen… after all, we don’t want the Romanian Police to believe the English is some sort of extraterrestrial language/code and to send it over to the FBI… or NASA.
3. Slip of paper titled:
Things to do: buy a torso-shaped, waterproof bag. Plus a skull-shaped key I found in my chips. I will add a note saying: “This leads to Elodia”. It will make Dan Diaconescu go kaboom. If we’re lucky enough, he’ll go kaboom inside OTV’s building.
4. A child’s drawing of a car with the police chief’s license plate number driving off a cliff in a ball of flames. (noooo, I don’t hate policemen… just ’cause they almost took my licence… it’s just your wild imagination… really…)
5. Small gift box addressed to Emil Boc & Elena Udrea + their colleagues, with note:
“Avoid going to work next Tuesday at 11:25AM. KA-BOOM!“
Inside the gift box: earplugs (of course, the ones for Elena Udrea are by Vuitton, in order to match her purse).
6. Artwork from the police chief’s son taken from the trash outside his home. A note on the back reads:
“Dear G., since you helped me so much when your friend, Paul, had me pregnant… I thought you might be interested to see the progress my son is making. He looks just like Paul. Nobody suspects my husband isn’t his real father.”
7. Letter to Tudy Ionescu saying that if he doesn’t pay me the amount of money I’ve asked him to, then I’ll pop out the second short movie in which he’s lobby-ing.
8. A life insurance policy taken out on me with the police chief as the beneficiary. (noooo, I don’t hate policemen… I even think they’re a bunch of sweethearts, sweetie pies and sugabears… really… it’s just your wild imagination!)
9. A list with the names of all the people I didn’t like in high school in a notebook entitled:
‘Cohorts in Crime’
10. Inside the Cohorts in Crime book, a note is written next to one particular ex-boyfriend’s name:
“Not worried about him turning me in because he always boasts how weak the police are and how they’re not tough enough to make him talk, even with rigorous and prolonged punching of his crotch.”
A note of warning if you are considering carrying similar items in your pockets: if the police are rifling through your pockets for any other reason than your death, you are in big, big trouble.