"I'm sorry to have to call you at this hour, Miss Hummel, but it says here that you're your nephew Kurt Hummel's guardian. Is that correct?"
Mildred grumbles into the phone, "That's right. What'd the little bastard do this time?"
"We're writing him up for indecent exposure," says the officer or whoever the fuck is calling Mildred at 12:30 in the morning. He clears his throat. "But really he was found in the Lima Memorial Fountain this evening, engaging in, um, personal relations. He and his, uh, friendresisted arrest."
In the background, Mildred can hear her nephew's gratingly high voice cry, "...didn't resist ... imbicile! ... toldyou ... almost done!"
Mildred's head is pounding and her mouth tastes like raspberry schnapps gone wrong, which is interesting, because she could have sworn it was Tuesday - half-price margarita day at Lou's. Rubbing the sleep and the beginning of a hangover from one eye, Mildred asks, "When do I gotta come get him? Don't tell me right now, because if I drive right up to the police station like this, you'll fuckin' arrest me."
"Oh, um," the officer replies, like he hadn't considered the possibility that some people had better things to do than collect their dead brother's ingrate kid from jail in the middle of the night. "Then I suppose we'll send him along in a patrol car to remand him to your custody. You are still at 321 Birch Road?"
Rolling her eyes and the ignorance of, "Lima's Finest," Mildred grunts, "Yeah. Apartment three," and hangs up the phone.
When the knock comes at her door fifteen minutes later, Mildred has her dressing gown wrapped around her and a drink in one hand. "C'mon in," she waves to the officer, ignoring the concerned frown he gives her. Mildred was good enough to take in her brother's weirdo son, she doesn't need high and mighty types frowning at her for needing a drink in the middle of the night. "I am so sorry, Officer," she says with an underplayed of sarcasm that he may or may not pick up on. "The scamp snuck out while I was sleeping."
The officer eyes all the piercings and the dyed hair but he says, "Boys will be boys, I suppose, especially when romance is involved."
Mildred cackles a little at the thought of anyone being attracted to Kurt. She turns to he nephew and asks, "So who's the girl? That Quinn you're always hanging out with?"
Kurt tilts his chin up defiantly and says, "Noah Puckerman."
Jesus Christ, she should have known he nephew was a pervert with all the crazy things he'd done to his appearance and that sky-high voice of his. Mildred rolls her eyes and says, "Whatever. Go to bed."
Kurt stomps away, giving her the finger and Mildred cringes. She's going to have to make nice with the downstairs neighbors again. At least it's only another year until the pervert graduates and is out of her house.
She turns to the policeman and asks, "So how much do I owe ya?"
He rips a ticket from his book and hands it to her, saying, "Mr. Hummel's court date is on there. If he doesn't appear, the judge will write a warrant for his arrest."
Mildred thinks about not telling Kurt when he has to be at the courthouse so that someone will finally take him off her hands, but she figures she's made it this long without getting in trouble with the state and those paychecks for taking him in are far too sweet to give up on now.