Quicker than Jameson could say, “Don’t tase me, bro!” and even before he could formulate a single thought in his head, Officer Milo had pressed his triumphant Lu against Jameson’s side, sending numbing electric shocks into his body.

It was the worst pain Jameson had ever experienced. Even worse than the hangover he got in Cancun during last spring break, when Paul dared him to drink the whole Tequila bottle, worm and all. This was much, much worse.

Jameson lay on the floor, twitching, afraid to move even an inch. He wondered dimly how he’d gotten there. He didn’t remember falling down. A shadow suddenly loomed over him, and he recoiled instinctively.

“D-D-Don’t hurt me,” he stammered.

“Are you all right, son? Do you think you can walk?”

Jameson stood up on unsteady legs. “I…think…so.” His head felt like it was full of cotton and his side still felt all tingly. Then he felt something else – cold steel cuffs closing around his wrists.

“Good, because you’re under arrest for going 90 in a 45 mph zone.”