THIS DUDE OWNS HIS MUSTACHE AND KEEPS THE PARKING SPOTS OF THE SHORT NORTH AND ANCILLARY NEIGHBORHOODS IN PERFECT WORKING ORDER. HE MAY PULL HIS PANTS UP A LITTLE BIT TOO HIGH, BUT HIS UNIFORM IS ALWAYS SMARTLY PRESSED AND HIS EVER-PRESENT SUNGLASSES ARE ALWAYS MIRRORED. HE NE’ER CRACKS A SMILE- HE’S BEEN THE KEEPER OF THE METERS FOR NEARLY THREE DECADES AND KEEPS THE STORIES OF THE WELL-WORN STREETS OF COLUMBUS IN THE ALLIGATOR BAGS UNDER THOSE ADAMANTLY SHADED EYES.

HE’S EARNED EVERY LINE AND CREASE IN THAT WIZENED, TOBACCO SOAKED FACE.

THAT GODDAMNED METER MAID NEVER TIRES OF TICKETING AND HE’S A BASTARD COUNTRY TRUE. YOU’VE GOT TO BE, IF YOU DO THE JOB RIGHT! HE RUNS A TIGHT DAMN SHIP. YOU’VE GOT TO BE RUTHLESS. YOU’VE GOT TO BE HARDENED. HE’S GOT HIS JAUNDICED EYE ON YOU. AND WHEN HE MARKS YOU WITH HIS LITTLE PIECE OF BLUE CHALK, YOU BETTER JUST WATCH YOUR BUTT.

O DEMON OF PAPERWORK, PULLING THE TICKET LEDGER FROM YOUR SHIRT POCKET, YOUR ARMS WILL NEVER IMPRESS SWIMMING IN THAT SHORT SLEEVE UNIFORM!  REPRESENTATIVE!  SOMEONE MIGHT EVEN MAKE AN EFFIGY OF YOU, WITH A HAIR PLUCKED FROM THAT BIG, BEAUTIFUL NOSE OR MUSTACHE.  METER MAIDS NEED IT SPECIAL; THEY BURN EASILY AS EFFIGIES.  FROM REPRESENTATIVE TO ASH IN ONE HOUR.