The other day my husband had a gun pulled on him - by the police - Again. I know, I laughed too. So, here’s what happened:
Our neighborhood has been plagued by thieves recently. Since December, the windows of our cars have been broken into not once, but twice and the HB’s bus, which does not lock, is frequently searched. My husband went out to get the mail the other evening, dressed like the white gangsta / goth he is in real life (a.k.a., his secret-identity when not super-scrubs-boy: tennis shoes, black sweats, grunge-inspired dark fleece).
On his return to our mudroom door, he noticed a car pull by and park oh-so-very-slowly. Now, the HB has been entertaining fantasies of catching this (probably 14-year old) window-breaking villain and soundly pummeling them. He went inside, crept to the window ever-so-stealthily and peeked out - to witness a man walk over to his bus from the parked car, open the side door and get in.
Although tempted to pummel, he decided that his recent hand surgery and large splint would make this course problematic. Instead, he dialed 9-1-1 and told the operator that the person who had been repeatedly breaking into his car was, right this minute, BREAKING INTO HIS CAR! Please come and catch them. He couldn’t really see the thief at that time, so his description (white guy, dark pants, tennis shoes) was a bit inadequate. The point, he assured the operator, was that someone was BREAKING INTO HIS CAR RIGHT NOW. Please come and catch them.
Well, this was too good to last. The thief left the bus and walked back to his car. My husband, not missing a great opportunity, went outside to spot the thief’s make, model and license number. Then he went to inspect his bus. He was rummaging around in the bus when he heard someone approach. Before he could turn around:
FREEZE! PUT YOUR HANDS ON THE BUS! NOW!
He turned his head to find a gun pointed directly at his head by one of Seattle’s Finest. “Dude! This is my bus!”
PUT YOUR HANDS ON THE BUS! DO IT NOW!
No, no man. I called you! This is my bus!
PUT. YOUR. HANDS. ON. THE. BUS! DO IT. NOW!
He put his hands on the bus.
The officers eventually let him go into the house to get his identification. He said as they were walking away he heard the lady officer turn to her male counterpart, who had been screaming at my husband, and say: “Dude! You kicked butt!”
Our motto for the day: Never a dull moment at the castle Viragette.
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