All you did wasdo what the sign told you. The sign said “Stop Traffic” and you, being the law-abiding citizen you are, jumped out in the roadway and took off your pants. Then everybody got all upset at you and called the fucking police like a bunch of assholes.
Follow a simple traffic sign and everybody gets all bent out of shape.
The officer is a dick from the start, telling you to put your pants on like he knows you or something, asking you personal questions like your name, date of birth, and address. I mean, who does that? Dick-ass cops, that’s who.
After the ridiculous and invasive interrogation that you’re not completely sure isn’t the first part of an identity-theft scheme, he starts grilling you on why you were out in the street.
You roll your eyes and initiate an argument about the intent of the sign.
“It’s a command. The ‘you’ is understood, officer,” you explain more than a little snootily.
“I understand imperative sentences, young man,” he replies, smirking dickishly. “ I use them all the time. Here’s one: turn around and put your hands behind your back.”