At last, the long-awaited sequel to my Sober Saga is here!

Howdy-ho Muggheads!

Remember wayyyyy back when, when I posted those stories about that time I lost a bet to Edwin (who still sucks!!) and went sober for an entire year?

Remember the part where I did a bunch of bad stuff in Europe and Asia, and that STUPID JERK in the suit beat me up over some pancakes?

Remember the part after that, where the judge said that I had to be legally intoxicated at all times because without alcohol I’m (allegedly!!) a “violent lunatic”?

Remember the part after that part, where the judge also said that a “special task force” would be assigned to me to make sure I complied with his ruling?

This one’s about that special task force! And apparently “special task force” is a fancy way of saying THE POLICE!

It was the morning after our big victory celebration at Yellowz Bar and Grill. I awoke to a blinding light. Cursed sun, how you always-

Oh wait, I used that one before. Let me try that again.

As I dragged myself to my fridge for my morning beer to alleviate the pounding in my head, someone pounded at the door.


I looked at the clock. Who was making all this racket at 9 in the morning? I didn’t know, but I wasn’t having any of that. Especially not before I had my morning mug!



Enough was enough, now it was time to get tough! Your pal Frosty isn’t afraid to get rough! I may not be buff, but I can do stuff!

I swung the door open ready to let this loud and INCONSIDERATE PUNK have it.

“Listen here, you-”

As it turns out, readers, I WASN’T ready! Standing at my door were three uniformed police officers. Two men and one woman. Oh come on Johnny (and Jenny!!) Law, didn’t we just go through this?! Ol’ Frosty had been found NOT GUILTY by the judge! The judge had even ordered me to be drunk at all times. I’m trying, your honor! But these police officers were stopping me from complying! I was being cop-blocked (get it?) from my beer.

“What do you guys want?” I asked, making sure to sound very irritated (which I was!!). “I’m trying to have a drink!”

The male cop who had been banging on my door pushed his way past me, and the other two officers followed. Sure, just come right on in why don’t ya!

“We’re here for your court-mandated sobriety test,” the cop said. “Now blow into this!”

Before I could even open my mouth a breathalyzer was being shoved into my face. At least let me open my mouth BEFORE you try to shove something into it!

I blew into the breathalyzer. The cop pulled it away before I could even read it. He showed it to the other cops, and they all shook their heads. I wasn’t sure what they were shaking their heads about but I took the opportunity to ask just what the hell was going on around here!

“Who are you people? What the hell is going on around here?”

The cop turned back to me.

“Drink a beer, Frosty.”

Well hey, you don’t have to tell ME twice!

I grabbed a beer from the fridge and drank the whole thing in one go. Frosty’s a law-abiding citizen, after all!

The officer handed me another beer.


I said you didn’t have to tell me twice! I drank this beer too, almost as quick as the first one. Imagine my surprise when the officer handed me a third beer!

“Come on Frosty, drink up.”

I’m not normally one to question authority, but now I had questions to ask the authorities standing in my apartment making me chug beers.

“Okay, who are you guys? Did Edwin send you?”

I was certain Edwin was behind this! This is EXACTLY the kind of prank that SICK BASTARD would play on me! Especially after losing that contest!

“No Frosty,” the cop replied, “We’re appointed by the court to make sure you’re legally intoxicated at all times. Last time you sobered up it didn’t go so well, remember?”

Oh yeah! In all the excitement from last night’s victory over Edwin I had forgot all about my victory in the court room. I looked at the three officers, took a swig of my beer, and smiled.

“So you’re the Sober Police!”

The cop looked to his fellow boy and girl in blue, then shrugged.

“Yep, I guess you could call us that. Or you could call us by our names. I’m Lt. Tim Johnson, and these are officers Gary Schroeder and Jackie Hernandez.”

As I took another swig of my beer, I decided to try my luck with Officer Hernandez.

“Can I take the law into my own hands?”

I thought this was rather clever. Officer Hernandez disagreed. Out came the nightstick.

“No, but I can give you a cavity search with this nightstick I’ve got here.”

No thank you, Frosty’s train doesn’t stop at THAT station!

I finished my beer, and the breathalyzer was immediately jammed into my mouth again. At least this time my mouth was open! Officer Johnson pulled it away and showed the other officers the reading. This time they nodded in agreement. Johnson turned to me again.

“You’re good, Frosty.”

I was good? Great! Now get going, coppers!

As the Sober Police made their way to the door, Officer Johnson turned to me one last time.

“We’ll be seeing you around. Stay frosty, Mugg!”

I remember thinking to myself at the time “Wow, what an unusual choice of words!” Of course I was going to stay Frosty Mugg, I wasn’t planning on getting my name changed or anything! Were the Sober Police drunk? It wasn’t until later that night when I told Slim what happened that he explained the joke. That is, after he spent five whole minutes laughing at it. Slim loved puns, that’s why we called him “The Pun-isher” after all!

And that, dear readers, is the sensational sequel to my Sober Saga, and my first of MANY times meeting the Sober Police!

Avatar photo

By Frosty Mugg

Frosty is a reckless idiot, a dirty lech, and a drunk bastard. When he’s not sitting on a bar stool pounding down one beer after another, he’s usually making poor decisions during moments of drunken impulsiveness. Due to an incident involving a college girl, Buddhist monks, and a trip across Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and Asia, Frosty is legally required to be intoxicated at all times. He resides in the city of Philadelphia, and is very much single, ladies.