Author's Note: I'm back in fairly good spirits and the urge to actually write something that would put a smile on faces overcame me, imagine that. I know it's been a while since I've conjured up a one-shot that would make you grin. I'm hoping I haven't lost my touch. This is based off of Brad Paisley's Hey, Mr. Policeman. It doesn't follow it exactly, but if you know the song, I'd recommend listening to it while you read. If you don't know the song, listen to it, read, keep listening. I feel like both are worth a good laugh, and if nothing else, the energy in that song will have you bouncing around the room, the same way I was when I was listening to it and grading workbooks and the idea for this hit me.

Disclaimer: I own neither Sirius nor the song "Mr. Policeman".

Hey, Hey, Mr. Policeman

Sirius was bored. He had on his dragon-hide jacket, and boots to match. No helmet of course, because it would ruin his roguish looking hair—shaggy and windswept. He'd been riding his motorcycle all over the property—but what good was it? There was no one to see how cool he looked doing it. He'd even turned on the flying capabilities—it wasn't exactly a smooth ride, but it worked. He and Prongs just needed to tinker with it a little more, if only the idiot hadn't been grounded. Half an hour's practice on the property was more than enough, right?

He hovered for a moment, a few hundred feet up, looking for the nearest road. He found one to the southwest and made for it—a little country lane. Perfect. He could land where no one would see, and then he could streak through the city like the Dementors of Azkaban were on his heels. Merlin, this was going to be a great night. He might even pick up a few girls—just to keep in practice. He landed with a bit of a jolt, bumping to the ground. Fleetingly he wondered if maybe something had been jostled loose, but he ignored such insignificant details. He'd put this thing together—there was no way it could go wrong. He gunned it and took off, finding the ground wasn't a hell of a lot more smooth than the air. It didn't matter. Prongs didn't know what he was missing—Sirius'd have to make sure to rub it in when he saw him again.

Fifteen minutes of cruising brought him into a sleepy little town. Aside from the occasional, friendly drunk, there didn't seem to be many people out this time of night. Lame. Definitely no hot chicks. He slowed just enough to check out a sign at the edge of town and pick a direction. After almost a dozen sleepy towns, he was getting frustrated. He wanted some action. He looked too effing good not to have someone see him fly past and say, "Damn, I want that."

He saw a bar up ahead and thought about stopping in for a drink. Just as he was nearing it, he caught the eye of a pretty little thing getting into a black and white car, he idled a stop light for the first time all night to get a better look. The woman was probably in her early or mid-twenties, dressed in a crisp uniform. Sitting in the driver's seat was an overweight, middle-aged man in a uniform that looked as though it had probably seen better days. He had something in his hand and was staring at Sirius with dislike. Sirius revved the engine and threw the woman a wink. Without even waiting for the light to go green, he took off at top speed. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the car was following him, trying in vain to catch up. He let out a bark of a laugh.

"C'mon, sugar, catch up, I'll let you ride behind me!" he called out. It was hard to know if they could hear him over the roar of his engine. It didn't matter. He felt alive. His hand squeezed the gas. This was what Sirius had been looking for. He led the chase through the town and out, going back the way he'd come, towards the Potter's, still beyond half a dozen towns back. He let go of the throttle a little, letting the car gain a few feet before he gunned the engine again. The motorbike felt alive underneath him: growling, shaking, and ready to prowl. Two towns down—three to go.

Sirius glanced back over his shoulder again at the car. The woman did not look pleased. Maybe she'd smile after Sirius let her ride with him…if he decided to stop. He had to squint, but it looked like she was talking into a little black box in her hand. He turned his attention back to the road just in time to avoid a tree. Merlin, he'd left the road six feet off to one side. He got back on, but the delay cost him—the car had gained a little more.

He was most of the way through the fourth town when he noticed that the woman and her partner weren't the only ones following him. A couple of other black and white cars were following, all of them flashing blue and red lights at him. All this fuss over little old him? Good. He liked it that way. He felt the engine struggle for a minute and muttered a spell, hoping it was good enough without his wand. There was no way to get his wand out of his leg holster going at this speed. Not to mention he still had the trace on him. The engine stopped groaning so much and returned to its usual roar. Sirius was just congratulating himself and getting ready to fling a comment over his shoulder when he caught a bug in his mouth. Nasty. Maybe there was a good reason to wear helmets.

Sirius had just entered the fourth town when his engine stuttered again. "C'mon, baby," he urged his motorcycle. The whole machine felt hotter than it should. He needed to get home now. The fifth town was just ahead. Damn. There were black and white cars waiting just inside of town, blocking the big main street. He veered left—it was time he left the party. Turning left had given him just enough of a look behind him to see that most of the cars were stopping, blocking the way out they had come. The car that originally started following him was still closing in.

An amplified voice from somewhere up ahead said, "There is no way out. I repeat: there is no way out. Disembark from your vehicle and raise your hands in the air."

Sirius grunted to himself, "That's what you think." He turned down the side street. He could see why they hadn't bothered blocking it. It only went on for a couple of hundred meters before it dead-ended. They weren't banking on his motorcycle being able to fly. He engaged the flight function and nothing happened—he was still heading towards the wall. He screeched the motorbike to a halt. The wall was low enough. The smell of burned rubber filled his nose. He swung his leg over the side and headed for the wall. He lowered his center of gravity for leverage and jumped for all he was worth, catching his fingers on the top of the wall. It was an effort, but he hauled himself over. He was straddling the wall and he could see the male officer running down the lane, breathing rather heavily—the lane had been too narrow for a car. He was holding something Sirius vaguely recognized as a weapon. Sirius, being Sirius, merely gave a cheeky wave and, hands on the wall, swung his other leg over and let himself drop to the ground. They'd never catch him now. Shame he hadn't gotten another look at that female officer.

"Hold it."

He looked up in the middle of his self congratulations and found himself facing the woman again, her crisp uniform a little less crisp now—she'd clearly had to run around to get here. She had some sort of weapon in her hand. He turned on the charm. "Hey, darling, if you're mad you didn't get a ride, it's right on the other side of that wall, though I doubt your buddy could drive it, I—" He was advancing forward and sideways, figuring to make a break for it.

"I said, hold it. You are under arrest—"

He had to be able to outrun her, right? He took off, heedless of the risk, thinking about how he'd manage to get his motorbike back when all was said and done. He might have to send Prongs down for it. It probably wouldn't be wise to show his face here until next summer—maybe Christmas at the earliest. He was running a little slower than usual—lesson for the evening: never try to manage a high-speed chase on foot in new dragon-hide boots. He felt a thump from behind and was surprised to find himself on the ground. How had she managed that? Damn his inner-monologue for not shutting up long enough to get him out of danger. He winced as his arms were pinned behind his back and metal cuffs were placed on his wrists. When he was standing, he gave her his best puppy dog eyes. "Can't you let a guy have a break just once?"

She shook her head. He was pleased to see that even from a distance he had been right—she was pretty. She had blonde hair which was coming a little bit loose from where it was bound at the back of her head. Her eyes were brown. He looked down at her hands, seeing a scar on the back of one of them. "The time for putting the brakes on this would have been back in Woodrow when you ran that red light."

At this point several other officers had arrived and were congratulating the woman on her quick thinking at going around the wall as she had. He was loaded into a police car. The original male officer stood there with a gloating look on his face. Sirius could see now that his badge read OFFICER BAIRD. Sirius decided his name should be Fatso McUgly instead. The woman's bad read OFFICER BRENNAN. He was all for continuing to try and sweet-talk her, but she ignored him as Fatso McUgly reminded him of his rights and they started driving to the station. It seemed to take forever to get to the station.

Fatso McUgly snickered as he put him into a holding cell. Sirius was uncuffed now, and reached into his pocket, pulling out his mirror. He eyed his hair critically—a little damp with sweat but on the bright side, he didn't have helmet hair. He kept his voice quiet, "Prongs, mate, you've got to come get me, I landed in jail in Woodrow and—"

"Jail? What did you do, Sirius?" It was a woman's voice.

Sirius blanched. "Mrs. Potter?"

"I took the mirror away when I grounded James."

He had to admire the woman—not a lot got by her.

"Wipe the grin off your face, Sirius, tell me where you are and make your excuses to me later…"

Author's Note: I realize after writing this that one could do a whole series of ficlets based on the phrase "Sirius was bored." Worth pondering?