I went to lunch to try and cheer myself up a little, and when I get back to my car, what do I find?
Bastards!!!
The meter maid gave me a ticket for not having a license plate on the front of my car. My car lacks a bracket for a front plate, and I haven't wanted to screw the thing up by putting a plate on the grill. Plus, I now have an extra plate, so if mine ever gets stolen I'm not completely out of luck.By the way, the meter still had 40 minutes left on it.
Fifty simolians it's going to cost me to pay this off. That seems like a lot of scratch for such a minor violation.
Little prick. I hope he tries to hump a woman who moves, and he humps a cactus instead.
So last night I hit the sack around 11:00 PM. I've been working on the basement most of the day, my lower back and shoulders are killing me, and I'm tired. At 11:05 I was really sawing the old wood, really copping the Zs, so at 2:00 in the AM, what happens?
Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
Likely there were six shots, but I missed the first. The shots sounded like a .38, and they sounded close. I looked out the window. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Not even a light going on.I went back to bed, and ten minutes later I was sawing the old wood again.
This afternoon I called the Columbus Police, trying to be civic minded and all, and reported shots fired. The lady that answered the phone told me that they couldn't do anything about it now, too much time had passed, I should have called immediately, yada yada yada. I apologized for bothering the police. I thought someone would at least take a report, but not a chance.
And that's the latest.
3 comments:
Wow, welcome to Columbus. Screw you and have a nice day!
Wow. That's some harshness in your neck of the woods. So sorry. Hope things look up soon. On a good note, you have lots of activity around you and some action/drama?
I could do with less drama, I'll tell you that. I'm looking forward to a nice, boring life which will eventually end with some unfortunate police investigating the noisome odor emanating from my condominium, and finding me DRT, apparently of a massive coronary while watching a rerun of The Sopranos.
If this little genius wanted to test fire his revolver, why couldn't he do it in the middle of the afternoon? Let him fire it into the back wall of the carryout across the street from me - it won't bother me, and with any luck at all it would give the clerks a respite from the mind numbing drudgery of stocking shelves in between customers.
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