It was a dark and stormy night

I got off the streetcar and headed for a donut shop, where I encountered an old acquaintance, who told me that he had just been released from prison. He had served three years for selling cocaine from his suburban house. He took no trouble to hide his activities, although in court he did pretend that comings and goings from the house were those of partygoers and band members. There was enough noise coming from the house to make this explanation plausible, he thought, but it was not plausible to the jury, who convicted him in thirteen and a half minutes.