This is a double-edged trap, because there’s really no good way out of it. You-Have-A-Bunch-of-X-in-Your-Car is bad enough, and might generate its own accompanying suspicions, but I-Confiscated-My-Girlfriend’s-Bunch-of-X-Because-She-Stopped-Schtooping-Me is possibly even worse, and lame dodges like I’m-Bringing-Them-to-a-Friend are just plain weird. I played it off as coolly as I could, doubtless twitchy and red-faced all the while, and even so I didn’t live it down for three or four months, not to mention the quiet closed-door whispering that almost certainly continued after the hallway jokes had (publicly) subsided.
Mimi alicheza ni mbali kama coolly kama mimi naweza, walau twitchy na nyekundu-wanakabiliwa wakati wote, na hata hivyo sikuwa kuishi ni chini ya miezi mitatu au minne, sembuse utulivu imefungwa-mlango whispering kwamba karibu shaka uliendelea baada barabara ya ukumbi utani alikuwa (hadharani) ruzuku. Ugh.