Behind The Crackhouse Part 2...
So I peer out the tiny window in the bedroom, and " Uh Oh."
I can't remember if I go back to the phone and tell N what I see, I
think I did, because at that point I wanted someone to know what was
happening. But it was all happening very quickly.
There were 2 or 3 guys, leaning and standing around a big white truck.
I could hardly see, because of that tiny window. Actually, I think all I saw
were feet, and the truck. It may have been a van. White. I saw crossed arms in
a T-shirt. The legs were wearing jeans and the feet, converse sneakers. The feet that I could see.
I went back to the phone and tell N what I saw. I go to the front door again,
I think I am in disbelief over what might be happening. I see/hear that he's definitely going
to come in, and he's working on it. It really IS happening. This IS happening!
I go into the bedroom and go under the bed and pull out the pump action shotgun, open
it to make sure there is a shell in there, and cross to the front door. I have the barrel
pointed straight up in the air. I stand in the entrance of the front door, with the gun, and I very carefully pump the gun to chamber the shell. Chk-Chk...( I wanted him to hear that)
Then I cross to the bedroom again, and look, and wow, they are gone!
Gone! That fast!
So I put the gun away, and go back to the phone. N is crying. She's freaking out. I tell
her that they are gone, and she is relieved, still crying, says " I wanted to call 911
but I didn't want to hang up on you, I don't have call waiting, and I didn't want to let you
go!"
You know, this whole incident took seconds. Seems slow-mo to me, and yet the reality
is that it took mere seconds.
The scariest part for ME was when I kept trying confront the guy, and he acted like I wasn't
there, and continued to do whatever he was doing to the gate.
Speaking of which, I was afraid to go outside and check it out. After assuring N that everything
was ok, we said goodbye and I called S. I was really shaking hard at that point. During the
incident itself, I was cool as a refridgerated cucumber.
It was in the retelling that I fully grasped what had actually happened, and THAT was when
I got scared and upset.
S was incredulous, and yet he DID wind up believing that something had happened. For when he came home, he/we saw that the outside of the gate, the wood had indeed been tampered
with.That was when I got interrogated. lol
Was it a long bar? A pipe? Forked? How many guys? A truck? Van?
I always figured that it had been a case of the wrong house, that we had been mistaken for
the crackdealer's house. I'm not sure if I made that part clear : The guy with the shy manner
and the cute, friendly Rotweilers was in fact a crack dealer.
But then something nagged at me about that theory. Theoretically, if you were going to rob a crack dealer's house, desperate or not, it'd be a suicide mission if you
set out unarmed. Trying to rob a crack dealer. Even if it's several idiots, even
THEY would know that the dealer would be armed. So wouldn't they show up armed?
And if so, why would they be so scared of my shotgun, if THEY were armed?
In other words, they meant to be there, this wasn't a mistake.
They probably saw me walk by out front everyday, coming home from the bus stop.
There were always about 10-20 people outfront, with cars. It was just like one of those
rap videos, including the music, except there weren't any scantily clad bimbos doing booty
shakin. '
Everyday I would walk by and give a " What's up?" nod to the neighbor ( the crack dealer),
and he would return the nod. It was cool because nobody said anything disrespectful to me,
ever. All the times I walked home. I even kinda wondered about this, because I could go
anywhere else, and get hooted and hollered at just for walking down the street, so it didn't
make sense that I could walk in front of 20 guys of all ethnicities imaginable and NOT hear SOMETHING. I was 20, and somewhat attractive, after all.
" They thought you were crazy" S said, when I asked about it. " They figured we had to be crazy, to live where we did, they figured YOU had to be crazy. People everywhere leave crazy people alone."
I thinkS was specifically talking about the Rotweilers, and how I would always bring his
dogs back and laugh talk about how cute they really were. Because it had become a regular
occurrence.
I dunno, the neighbors were nice. Except my laundry once got stolen hanging on a line
in the yard. But that could've been another set of neighbors.
I can't remember if I go back to the phone and tell N what I see, I
think I did, because at that point I wanted someone to know what was
happening. But it was all happening very quickly.
There were 2 or 3 guys, leaning and standing around a big white truck.
I could hardly see, because of that tiny window. Actually, I think all I saw
were feet, and the truck. It may have been a van. White. I saw crossed arms in
a T-shirt. The legs were wearing jeans and the feet, converse sneakers. The feet that I could see.
I went back to the phone and tell N what I saw. I go to the front door again,
I think I am in disbelief over what might be happening. I see/hear that he's definitely going
to come in, and he's working on it. It really IS happening. This IS happening!
I go into the bedroom and go under the bed and pull out the pump action shotgun, open
it to make sure there is a shell in there, and cross to the front door. I have the barrel
pointed straight up in the air. I stand in the entrance of the front door, with the gun, and I very carefully pump the gun to chamber the shell. Chk-Chk...( I wanted him to hear that)
Then I cross to the bedroom again, and look, and wow, they are gone!
Gone! That fast!
So I put the gun away, and go back to the phone. N is crying. She's freaking out. I tell
her that they are gone, and she is relieved, still crying, says " I wanted to call 911
but I didn't want to hang up on you, I don't have call waiting, and I didn't want to let you
go!"
You know, this whole incident took seconds. Seems slow-mo to me, and yet the reality
is that it took mere seconds.
The scariest part for ME was when I kept trying confront the guy, and he acted like I wasn't
there, and continued to do whatever he was doing to the gate.
Speaking of which, I was afraid to go outside and check it out. After assuring N that everything
was ok, we said goodbye and I called S. I was really shaking hard at that point. During the
incident itself, I was cool as a refridgerated cucumber.
It was in the retelling that I fully grasped what had actually happened, and THAT was when
I got scared and upset.
S was incredulous, and yet he DID wind up believing that something had happened. For when he came home, he/we saw that the outside of the gate, the wood had indeed been tampered
with.That was when I got interrogated. lol
Was it a long bar? A pipe? Forked? How many guys? A truck? Van?
I always figured that it had been a case of the wrong house, that we had been mistaken for
the crackdealer's house. I'm not sure if I made that part clear : The guy with the shy manner
and the cute, friendly Rotweilers was in fact a crack dealer.
But then something nagged at me about that theory. Theoretically, if you were going to rob a crack dealer's house, desperate or not, it'd be a suicide mission if you
set out unarmed. Trying to rob a crack dealer. Even if it's several idiots, even
THEY would know that the dealer would be armed. So wouldn't they show up armed?
And if so, why would they be so scared of my shotgun, if THEY were armed?
In other words, they meant to be there, this wasn't a mistake.
They probably saw me walk by out front everyday, coming home from the bus stop.
There were always about 10-20 people outfront, with cars. It was just like one of those
rap videos, including the music, except there weren't any scantily clad bimbos doing booty
shakin. '
Everyday I would walk by and give a " What's up?" nod to the neighbor ( the crack dealer),
and he would return the nod. It was cool because nobody said anything disrespectful to me,
ever. All the times I walked home. I even kinda wondered about this, because I could go
anywhere else, and get hooted and hollered at just for walking down the street, so it didn't
make sense that I could walk in front of 20 guys of all ethnicities imaginable and NOT hear SOMETHING. I was 20, and somewhat attractive, after all.
" They thought you were crazy" S said, when I asked about it. " They figured we had to be crazy, to live where we did, they figured YOU had to be crazy. People everywhere leave crazy people alone."
I thinkS was specifically talking about the Rotweilers, and how I would always bring his
dogs back and laugh talk about how cute they really were. Because it had become a regular
occurrence.
I dunno, the neighbors were nice. Except my laundry once got stolen hanging on a line
in the yard. But that could've been another set of neighbors.
posted by Nabonidus at 9:07 AM
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