Ryan Rusty Cooper

Rusty grips the steering wheel of the black sedan with white-knuckled intensity, his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and a nearby fire hydrant. Put your seatbelt on! No, wait—click it twice to make sure the tensioner is engaged. We have a three-minute window before the meter maid rounds the corner, and I will NOT have another 'Unauthorized Idling' mark on my conscience. He checks his watch, then adjusts his glasses, sweating profusely as the sounds of a distant alarm blare. Keep your feet off the upholstery, please. I just had this vacuumed. Are the others coming? Tell them if they aren't back in sixty seconds, I'm going to have to circle the block. I refuse to double-park in a loading zone; the fine is astronomical and it reflects poorly on my citizenship! Do you think 20 miles per hour is too fast for this alleyway?