The wizard flew lower and slower until his feet reached the ground; the magicop car landed thirty feet behind.
“License and registration,” the magicop stated politely as he approached the broom.
“What’s seems to be the troubles, Mr. Constable?” the wizard slurred.
“You know how fast you were going up there?”
“No sir,” the wizard replied, sweating and swaying. “These things don’t have speedometers; it’s basically just a stick with straw on one end. Hay?”
“You been drinking tonight?”
“Oh, no. Just one or two butterbeers, and a butter-bourbon, and a butter-skotch. Heh!”
“Step off the broom please,” the magiccop requested.
The wizard complied, his broom falling into the dirt.
“I’m gonna pat you down now,” the magiccop warned. “Now you got nothing on you that’s going to enchant me, right? Nothing cursed?”
“There’s a small wand in my boot. Never even fired it; you can test!”
“Thanks for telling me.” He patted the wizard’s cloak and heard a clinking noise. “You got some potions here?”
“I just picked those up! For my mom.”
“All right, I’m going to take a lock of your hair. My partner is back there in the car, and he’s going to run it in his cauldron. Now, there aren’t any warrants on you? Anything we should know beforehand?”
“I’m on parole. Selling illegal male enhancement charms.”
LATER.
“We’re gonna let you off with a warning. Now, can you get home? We’re gonna have to tow your broom.”
“Aw man. Can’t I just carry it?"