Peregrine Falcon Gets Pulled Over for Speeding
Scene: A peregrine falcon is pulled over for speeding. The patrol office is a bald eagle.
EAGLE (Officer Talonson): Sir, do you know how fast you were going?
FALCON (Perry): Uh… depends which altitude you mean, officer. There was a bit of a tailwind situation.
EAGLE: Don't play coy with me, feathers. Radar clocked you at 242 miles per hour in a 150 zone.
FALCON: Oh, come on. Those speed limits are for geese. They can barely break 60 with a full tank of breadcrumbs.
EAGLE: The limit is the limit. You're endangering other birds out here. There's a flock of starlings doing synchronized turns just a few thermals down.
FALCON: I saw them. I was just—uh—drafting behind them for fuel efficiency.
EAGLE: Drafting? You passed through them like a feathered torpedo. Half the flock's still in counseling.
FALCON: Okay, okay. Look, I was late for a dive appointment. You know how it is — gotta keep the reflexes sharp. One slip, and boom, pigeon buffet goes cold.
EAGLE: That's not an emergency.
FALCON: Technically, it is. My blood pressure drops if I don't dive at least twice before lunch. Doctor's orders. Avian wellness plan.
EAGLE: You expect me to believe your doctor told you to exceed 240 mph?
FALCON: Not in those words. He said "keep active." I'm interpreting creatively.
EAGLE: Uh-huh. You got a license and registration?
FALCON: Sure thing, officer—uh, about that. My license got a little… wind-damaged during a stoop. You know how pockets are nonexistent at 8,000 feet.
EAGLE: So that's a "no."
FALCON: It's a philosophical yes.
EAGLE: (rubs temples with a wing) Perry, you're lucky I don't call this in. Do you have any idea what would happen if the FAA — Feathered Aviators Administration — found out?
FALCON: I'd have to attend another eight-hour "Responsible Soaring" seminar with that sanctimonious owl, wouldn't I?
EAGLE: Correct. And there's a quiz this time.
FALCON: (shudders) Not the quiz. Those multiple-choice questions are all trick questions. "What's the safe glide ratio during a headwind?" Who knows that?
EAGLE: I do.
FALCON: Right, of course you do, sir. Bald eagles — nation's pride, symbol of justice, all that jazz.
EAGLE: Don't butter my beak, son.
FALCON: Just saying — I admire your wing discipline. You glide with purpose. Real stoic. Probably meditate before takeoff.
EAGLE: Flattery isn't going to keep me from writing a ticket.
FALCON: What about patriotism? You really want to ticket the fastest bird in America? That's practically un-American.
EAGLE: (sighs) You falcons always pull the "national treasure" card.
FALCON: I prefer "natural phenomenon."
EAGLE: Alright, Perry. I'm going to let you off with a warning.
FALCON: Seriously? You mean it?
EAGLE: Yeah. But keep it under 200 in populated airspace. And for the love of liberty, signal before you dive.
FALCON: Absolutely, officer. You'll see me—well, actually, you won't, because I'll be under the limit. Practically a glider from now on.
EAGLE: I'll believe it when I don't see it.
FALCON: Thanks, Officer Talonson. You're a real wingman.
EAGLE: Don't push it.
(This skit is donated to the public domain.)
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