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Hell yeah, be afraid of the dark!
Feb. 26th, 2008 02:54 pmSo, at 12:30 A-freakin'-M this morning some loud, thumping noise woke me up. For some reason the dog wasn't upset which lead me to believe it was my mids worker daughter having a night off. The thumping continued which got me somewhat aggravated since it was the middle of the night for me, and not my afternoon. I got up and in my best Mom is annoyed at being awakened voice, called out to her from the top of the stairs to see what the frack she was doing. No answer. So I yelled louder. Again no answer, but the thumping stopped. Once more with feeling and there was that kind of silence you can actually feel, but no daughter shouting back "WHAT'.
*begin background info*
Daughter-type had recently broken up with a real shady character boyfriend. They had actually moved out together this fall (see September posting featuring much empty nest mother whining) which resulted in my daughter having several things stolen and sold off by scuzzy house-mate friends of said shady boyfriend. She moved back home after a rather violent episode involving the police. For some reason her bed never made it back to the house and was stored at shady boyfriend's mother's house. Last evening said bed was dumped on my driveway in the middle of a puddle of muddy snow melt.
*end background info*
This all flashed through my mind as my heart started pounding and I envisioned my computer and dvd collection being carted from the house by hoodlums. All I could think of was, CALL 911!! Now, I've seen enough creepy shows/movies to know that even armed with the baton stuffed in the back of my closet I was toast if I went downstairs to see what was going on. So I locked my bedroom door and slammed it shut, called 911 and told the nice lady on the phone that I thought someone was in my house. We talked about lights on timers, what cars should be in the driveway and whether there were any tripping hazards in my yard while she summoned help.
After determining that I was sincere, 911 Lady stated that two officers had just been dispatched and would be there soon. Knowing that they were most likely at the WaWa that is less than half a mile from the house getting their free coffee, I knew it would only be a few seconds. About this time I heard the front door open and my daughter shout MOM! Cue big, bouncer type cops at the front door, both of whom daughter-type knows because she works at the WaWa in the middle of the night when the cops come in for their free coffee and gossip break.
*more background info*
Daughter-type only wears black. Jeans, tee and sweat shirts, socks, hats everything. She listens to King Diamond and screechy sorts like that, no slur intended. In short, she is not a girly-girl at all.
*end more background info*
All the cops that come into that WaWa have nicknames. We have supercop, who when he pulls over drunk/high kids likes to take them a few miles from their car and drop them off so they have to walk back. And then there is bouncer cop who she says looks like a wall in uniform. Short version, he's the one who came to the door while she was in her candy cane fleece jammies and pink fluffy robe. Oh yeah, black ski cap with white skull and cross bones, too. She's such a fashion plate.
See this is why I don't write fanfic. I can't tell a story to save my life.
Anyway, it turns out that the other dog, who I don't get along with in any sort of way, had decided to get into the kitchen trash when daughter-type went out for a ciggy. Thumping noises explained. Guilty silence explained since he knew he was in deep doo doo for knocking over the trash. And daughter, who has been told NOT to leave him on his own unattended because he can't be trusted, was nicely embarrassed being seen in her lounge wear. So, no harm, no foul and only cold cop coffee as a result. Unless you want to include heart pounding fear and spaghetti with muscles ground into the carpet where the dog had dragged it. And of course, daughter-type having to endure cop harassment when she gets back to work tonight over he pink fluffy robe.
It was 2:30 before I got back to sleep. Ugh.
*begin background info*
Daughter-type had recently broken up with a real shady character boyfriend. They had actually moved out together this fall (see September posting featuring much empty nest mother whining) which resulted in my daughter having several things stolen and sold off by scuzzy house-mate friends of said shady boyfriend. She moved back home after a rather violent episode involving the police. For some reason her bed never made it back to the house and was stored at shady boyfriend's mother's house. Last evening said bed was dumped on my driveway in the middle of a puddle of muddy snow melt.
*end background info*
This all flashed through my mind as my heart started pounding and I envisioned my computer and dvd collection being carted from the house by hoodlums. All I could think of was, CALL 911!! Now, I've seen enough creepy shows/movies to know that even armed with the baton stuffed in the back of my closet I was toast if I went downstairs to see what was going on. So I locked my bedroom door and slammed it shut, called 911 and told the nice lady on the phone that I thought someone was in my house. We talked about lights on timers, what cars should be in the driveway and whether there were any tripping hazards in my yard while she summoned help.
After determining that I was sincere, 911 Lady stated that two officers had just been dispatched and would be there soon. Knowing that they were most likely at the WaWa that is less than half a mile from the house getting their free coffee, I knew it would only be a few seconds. About this time I heard the front door open and my daughter shout MOM! Cue big, bouncer type cops at the front door, both of whom daughter-type knows because she works at the WaWa in the middle of the night when the cops come in for their free coffee and gossip break.
*more background info*
Daughter-type only wears black. Jeans, tee and sweat shirts, socks, hats everything. She listens to King Diamond and screechy sorts like that, no slur intended. In short, she is not a girly-girl at all.
*end more background info*
All the cops that come into that WaWa have nicknames. We have supercop, who when he pulls over drunk/high kids likes to take them a few miles from their car and drop them off so they have to walk back. And then there is bouncer cop who she says looks like a wall in uniform. Short version, he's the one who came to the door while she was in her candy cane fleece jammies and pink fluffy robe. Oh yeah, black ski cap with white skull and cross bones, too. She's such a fashion plate.
See this is why I don't write fanfic. I can't tell a story to save my life.
Anyway, it turns out that the other dog, who I don't get along with in any sort of way, had decided to get into the kitchen trash when daughter-type went out for a ciggy. Thumping noises explained. Guilty silence explained since he knew he was in deep doo doo for knocking over the trash. And daughter, who has been told NOT to leave him on his own unattended because he can't be trusted, was nicely embarrassed being seen in her lounge wear. So, no harm, no foul and only cold cop coffee as a result. Unless you want to include heart pounding fear and spaghetti with muscles ground into the carpet where the dog had dragged it. And of course, daughter-type having to endure cop harassment when she gets back to work tonight over he pink fluffy robe.
It was 2:30 before I got back to sleep. Ugh.
