What a wacky week this is turning out to be.
So its Tuesday night and me and BZ are having our daily ritual of dinner and the Colbert Report (the "t"s are silent) when all of a sudden the dog jumps off the couch and starts barking. This actually isn't all that unusual she will usually bark if she hears people outside, then quiets back down when they leave.
So she's barking and barking and this is going on a lot longer than it usually does so I get up to go see what the problem is. She's standing at the kitchen door yapping up a storm. Its dark outside and raining, but from what light spills out from the kitchen windows I can see someone in a white shirt knocking on my renter's door. Ok, not too big a deal. He often has these sort of white trash drunken hooker types come by. Now this isn't something I approve of, but I tend to follow the libertarian stand point of don't bother me and I won't bother you. The dog will stop when she goes in or leaves. I return to the "Repor".
A few minutes go by and the dog is still barking now interspaced between the barks are pounds on the door and the drunken howling of "Bill". Now you've begun to bother me.
I go to the side window and look out and note that Bill's car isn't here.
I go back to the kitchen. She is now kicking the door and screaming out "Bill, open up".
"He's not here lady!" I yell back.
She seems to take the hint and leaves the pourch.
I return to the "Repor".
Then from the side window we hear "Bill!" and its moving around the house to the front porch. Now this is really pissing me off.
The yelling travels away again, but returns at the side porch accompagnied by the kicking of the door.
This time I open the kitchen door and flip on the lights.
"Look lady he's not here."
"What?" There is a horrible wiskey soaked moose caught in the headlights.
"He's not here. Do you see his car?" I point out to the space he normally parks in. She stares blankly.
"Where's Bill?"
"Not here."
"Well he's got my keys!"
"Not my problem."
"Well then you have to give me a ride home."
What the hell is this bitch's problem.
"I'm not giving you a ride home and if you don't get out of here I'm going to call the cops." I tell her.
"Look I'm sorry. I just.." She starts to say, but as she does this she's trying to reach her hand in the door, which I close in her face. The last thing I need is some drunken whore in the house. Please not I didn't hit her with the door nor did I slam her hand in it or anything.
"Ouch, you fucking asshole." She starts to pound on my door.
"Thats it, I'm calling the cops." I grab the phone, but apparently the threat was enough and she gets off the porch. The last I see of her she's out at the road wondering drunkly up it trying to thumb for a ride.
I may have to start placing the swords closer to the door.
So its Tuesday night and me and BZ are having our daily ritual of dinner and the Colbert Report (the "t"s are silent) when all of a sudden the dog jumps off the couch and starts barking. This actually isn't all that unusual she will usually bark if she hears people outside, then quiets back down when they leave.
So she's barking and barking and this is going on a lot longer than it usually does so I get up to go see what the problem is. She's standing at the kitchen door yapping up a storm. Its dark outside and raining, but from what light spills out from the kitchen windows I can see someone in a white shirt knocking on my renter's door. Ok, not too big a deal. He often has these sort of white trash drunken hooker types come by. Now this isn't something I approve of, but I tend to follow the libertarian stand point of don't bother me and I won't bother you. The dog will stop when she goes in or leaves. I return to the "Repor".
A few minutes go by and the dog is still barking now interspaced between the barks are pounds on the door and the drunken howling of "Bill". Now you've begun to bother me.
I go to the side window and look out and note that Bill's car isn't here.
I go back to the kitchen. She is now kicking the door and screaming out "Bill, open up".
"He's not here lady!" I yell back.
She seems to take the hint and leaves the pourch.
I return to the "Repor".
Then from the side window we hear "Bill!" and its moving around the house to the front porch. Now this is really pissing me off.
The yelling travels away again, but returns at the side porch accompagnied by the kicking of the door.
This time I open the kitchen door and flip on the lights.
"Look lady he's not here."
"What?" There is a horrible wiskey soaked moose caught in the headlights.
"He's not here. Do you see his car?" I point out to the space he normally parks in. She stares blankly.
"Where's Bill?"
"Not here."
"Well he's got my keys!"
"Not my problem."
"Well then you have to give me a ride home."
What the hell is this bitch's problem.
"I'm not giving you a ride home and if you don't get out of here I'm going to call the cops." I tell her.
"Look I'm sorry. I just.." She starts to say, but as she does this she's trying to reach her hand in the door, which I close in her face. The last thing I need is some drunken whore in the house. Please not I didn't hit her with the door nor did I slam her hand in it or anything.
"Ouch, you fucking asshole." She starts to pound on my door.
"Thats it, I'm calling the cops." I grab the phone, but apparently the threat was enough and she gets off the porch. The last I see of her she's out at the road wondering drunkly up it trying to thumb for a ride.
I may have to start placing the swords closer to the door.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home