Incidents and Accidents, Hints and Allegations
It's 3:00 a.m., and I'm not sleeping.
I always thought calling the cops would be more fun. Turns out it isn't when you know them. Ammon and Sam coming to my door wasn't nearly as amusing as the drunk guy coming to my door.
I woke up with a shriek half an hour ago when somebody tried to turn my doorknob, rattling the dangling security chain I never slide (but will hereafter). He ran up the stairs while I tried to decide which weapon to use. A few minutes later he was back again, stumbling down to my door (tripping on a stack of fossils, a box of mothballs, and my snow shovel) in the sulphur glow from the light on the church across the street. By this time I could tell he was drunk, unarmed, and smaller than me, so I pulled back the curtain and shouted, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm trying to go down these stairs." He was maybe 20, skinny and shirtless (it's 7 degrees above 0), clearly inebriated.
"Obviously. It's three a.m., what the hell are you doing? Get the **** out of here."
He stumbled up the stairs again and around the front of the house, where I heard him shouting, "What am I going to do?" There was another male voice, some stomping, more shouting. I heard them force the front door to the rear apartment upstairs. That's when I called dispatch, not afraid but genuinely annoyed.
Five minutes later I could hear Ammon and Sam talking to the drunk guys in the foyer above when somebody knocked on my door. I pulled back the curtain to find a very concerned-looking young man in glasses and hoodie, and for a moment all I could do was stare. He was black. Which, may I point out, didn't make me feel any animosity towards him, especially since he was chubby and tidy and clearly sorry to be knocking on my door. It's just that I haven't seen a live person of color up close in months, maybe years.
He looked even more unhappy to find me gawking. "Do you know where Eve is?"
"No. Who's that?"
"Eve? Mary?"
"They don't live here."
He rolled his eyes and waved towards the apartment above. "Mary. From upstairs?"
I shrugged. "I don't know those people. I don't want to."
"Well she knocked on my door, and the cops are here to deal with that situation," indicating the shouting in the foyer.
"I know. I called them."
He threw up his hands and trudged back up the stairs, where he met Ammon and, apparently, Mary, a very large girl covered in snow and sobbing. Ammon came down the stairs.
"She jumped out the window because the door handle broke off and she was locked in. The drunk guys shouldn't bother you now. Did you call because of the noise?"
"No. The half-naked one tried to open my door." His eyebrows shot up, and Sam appeared behind him. They are both fit and tall and appealingly clean-cut, the stalwart embodiment of public safety. Suddenly, sagging against the doorjamb in the cold, all I could think about was the flannel sheets and down comforter behind me. "Can I go back to bed now?"
I must have missed most of what went on, and there will probably be more problems, but all I want is sleep, lately such a rare and precious commodity. Mary obviously has the worst kind of friends, people who don't respect her. I hate to cause more trouble for her, but her inevitable eviction is out of my hands now.
I always thought calling the cops would be more fun. Turns out it isn't when you know them. Ammon and Sam coming to my door wasn't nearly as amusing as the drunk guy coming to my door.
I woke up with a shriek half an hour ago when somebody tried to turn my doorknob, rattling the dangling security chain I never slide (but will hereafter). He ran up the stairs while I tried to decide which weapon to use. A few minutes later he was back again, stumbling down to my door (tripping on a stack of fossils, a box of mothballs, and my snow shovel) in the sulphur glow from the light on the church across the street. By this time I could tell he was drunk, unarmed, and smaller than me, so I pulled back the curtain and shouted, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm trying to go down these stairs." He was maybe 20, skinny and shirtless (it's 7 degrees above 0), clearly inebriated.
"Obviously. It's three a.m., what the hell are you doing? Get the **** out of here."
He stumbled up the stairs again and around the front of the house, where I heard him shouting, "What am I going to do?" There was another male voice, some stomping, more shouting. I heard them force the front door to the rear apartment upstairs. That's when I called dispatch, not afraid but genuinely annoyed.
Five minutes later I could hear Ammon and Sam talking to the drunk guys in the foyer above when somebody knocked on my door. I pulled back the curtain to find a very concerned-looking young man in glasses and hoodie, and for a moment all I could do was stare. He was black. Which, may I point out, didn't make me feel any animosity towards him, especially since he was chubby and tidy and clearly sorry to be knocking on my door. It's just that I haven't seen a live person of color up close in months, maybe years.
He looked even more unhappy to find me gawking. "Do you know where Eve is?"
"No. Who's that?"
"Eve? Mary?"
"They don't live here."
He rolled his eyes and waved towards the apartment above. "Mary. From upstairs?"
I shrugged. "I don't know those people. I don't want to."
"Well she knocked on my door, and the cops are here to deal with that situation," indicating the shouting in the foyer.
"I know. I called them."
He threw up his hands and trudged back up the stairs, where he met Ammon and, apparently, Mary, a very large girl covered in snow and sobbing. Ammon came down the stairs.
"She jumped out the window because the door handle broke off and she was locked in. The drunk guys shouldn't bother you now. Did you call because of the noise?"
"No. The half-naked one tried to open my door." His eyebrows shot up, and Sam appeared behind him. They are both fit and tall and appealingly clean-cut, the stalwart embodiment of public safety. Suddenly, sagging against the doorjamb in the cold, all I could think about was the flannel sheets and down comforter behind me. "Can I go back to bed now?"
I must have missed most of what went on, and there will probably be more problems, but all I want is sleep, lately such a rare and precious commodity. Mary obviously has the worst kind of friends, people who don't respect her. I hate to cause more trouble for her, but her inevitable eviction is out of my hands now.
posted by A at
4:22 AM
4 Comments:
What are you packin' these days? I hope your most readily available weapon wasn't the Steve Madden ballet flat you used on your last intruder.
Hey, I'm considering patenting that shoe as the "Spider Extermination Apparatus." It even gets them in the corners, what with that rounded toe and all. Plus I think I was wearing it when I stepped in something toxic in New York City.
For the bigger variety, those pesky hobosapiens, I'm investing in a Glock 23 .40 caliber pistol.
Glock 23, issue weapon to the FBI. Small, light, shootable.]
Though the sound of a pump shotgun being cycled is usually deterrent enough. :-)
Doesn't Kelly have one of those? D'you think he'd let me borrow it?
I think the Glock you recommended will be just fine.
Word verification: vebox. Wow.
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