As you may recall*, several weeks ago I had a visit from my Taturday friend, an incredibly innebriated man who showed up on a Tuesday morning (my version of Saturday) and tried to break the door down in search of a woman named Kristin. In the end I was victorious and he was in jail, but apparently that experience has imprinted in me the idea that anyone knocking at my door intends on breaking my door down. Fast-forward three weeks. I'm house-sitting at a friend's house. I'm all alone. It's 3:30 in the morning. I am awakened by a very desperate knocking at the door.
Door: Bang Bang Bang!
Me: whouabuhuh hmm?
Door: Bang Bang Bang!
Me: What the heck is that?
Door: Bangbangbangbangbang!
Me: Holy crap. Someone's trying to kill me.
Yes. That is the first thought that entered my half-awake mind. Seeing as how it was 3:30, I was on the kind-of sketchy end of a fairly rough street, and I was completely alone, the only person who would be knocking at the door would be a murderer. I came to this conclusion based on the fact that a) of course, anyone wanting to come in at 3:30 am wants to cause trouble; b) if that person wanted to steal something they wouldn't bother knocking, thusly c) that person must...want to kill a random stranger. Dear God.
Door: Bangbangbangbangbangbangbang!
Me: Ahhhh I'm not here! I'm not here! I need a place to hide...the closet! No, not the closet! This is the wrong kind of closet! The only thing in here is clothes!** just...just...just hide on the floor! That's right! Sit down! no one will find you now!
Door: Bangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbang!
Me: shhh. shh. Alright. Police time. Where's my phone? Aha! It's right there! Oh shit it's not on! Why isn't it on? Turn on phone, turn on, now! Alright, police time and...waaaait. Wait a minute. What's the address to the house?
Door: BAng! BAANG! BAAAANG!
Me: oh good lord. I don't know the address to the house I'm staying in! What now?
Door: Bang bang. Bang bang. Bang.
Me: I need a weapon! I need a weapon! What about that 6-foot tall decorative lamp? It's alluminum! Useless! The broom! The broom! No, as if I can fend off someone hell-bent on killing me with a broom.
Door: Bang! Bang!
Me: hey what a great time to remember I haven't figured out how to lock the back door yet. Damn those complex patio doors. What if this person tries the back door? What if their accomplice already has? Someone could be in the house right now and I wouldn't even know it!
Door: Bang?
Me: Emersson! Go! Investigate the intruder downstairs! Stop him for me!
It was then that I had a thought I'm not very proud of, which was that the most effective line of defence available to me would be for me to pick up Emersson and throw him at the intruder. Then I thought, maybe I should start with Loki; she's small, but she's more likely to have her claws out.
And then suddenly, the banging stopped.
I stood up and stealthily peered out the window, in time to see a woman with bushy brown hair and a young man walking away from the house. Interesting. Did I think hey, those people look kind of like the neighbours. Maybe they just wanted to borrow the phone because their house got broken into.? No. I thought to myself, Amy, that is the face of your intended murderer. Memorize that face.
An hour later, when I noticed the cops pull up next door, did I think yep, definitely a break-in next door. Too bad I didn't answer the door for the neighbours? No. My first thought was holy crap. My intended murderer killed the neighbours instead.
I went downstairs to explain the situation to the cops.
Police officer: Hi there. Did you hear anything happening here tonight?
Me: Yes! There was this crazy banging on my door about an hour ago! It just wouldn't stop!
Police: Oh yeah. That was probably your neighbour.
Me: My what? she's still alive?!
Police: Yeah they suspect there was a break-in. I'm guessing she wanted to use your phone.
Me: Oh....oh...ooohh...craaap.
I went and barricaded myself in the deserted house again, and spent the last 1/2 hour before I had to get up for my baking shift composing an apology letter to said neighbour so that she wouldn't think I was a total bitch for ignoring her plea for help.
*provided you are a loyal follower of my blog, as I'm sure you all are.
**I have the luxury of living in a house with only one real closet, which is in my brother's room, meaning it is stocked with medieval-inspired weaponry (eg knives, daggers, halbards, bows and arrows, etc.); a collection of heavy-duty exercise equipment; and at least one 24-pack of energy drinks; all of which could be used as weapons.***
***incidentally, there are no clothes in that closet.
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