Local lore says that when Officer Keith Taguma was shot with his own gun in 1985, something very strange happened. While in critical condition–his only company the clicking plunge of the IV machine–many believe he consumed himself like an ouroboros and emerged from his own asexual womb already wearing his shiny helmet. Thus, Taguma became the meter maid of mayhem we revere today. Others say that there isn’t merely one Taguma; and like a starfish re-growing a mangled new appendage, he’s able to horcrux his hard heart and send drones of clones to canvass Wailuku and ticket the working class with penalties doubling any other town (i.e. $60 in Wailuku vs. $30 elsewhere). It’s also said that his little cart talks to him like Knight Rider and that he tickets his expired food when he’s home alone. But we digress. No meter maid is so mythologized–a man who can strike fear with but a stroke of chalk–and so, in eternal return, what’s worst about Taguma makes him best.
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