I woke up at 1:45am to a door slamming. Yep, it has begun.
Immediately I hear the all too familiar screams of a drunken tirade outside my window. (such a blessing!) I sit and enjoy hearing about what new issue has popped up within the family, and yes, instead of the sister being disowned, this time it's the younger brother. Ahhh, if only my family was that close. :)
I try to go back to sleep, but find it difficult to block out the stream of F-words that come flying through my window clear as day. I am actually quite impressed, I had no idea you could actually express yourself using ONLY the F-word. I think I heard that word more in that hour than I had EVER heard in my entire life combined. Kudos my drunk friend, you have officially fried your brain past functioning.
So, I am slightly annoyed that I am unable to enjoy the fact that my son has not yet woken up screaming so loud my ears bleed.. (I mean, he giggles sweetly in his crib to wake me up.) So I get up and look out the window and notice that it is not actually my neighbor outside this time, it's his younger brother (which I gathered by such phrases as: "He's no longer my brother!" and "I may be a drunk, but he's 30 and acts like he did when he was 10. At least I act my age.")
Then I hear him say, "Well if the cops come and see blood I'll tell them it's because he came at me! That's what happened!" (Feel free to be colorful with your language while reading this if you want it to be more accurate. I took the liberty to report what I heard void of bleeps.)
So after several more comments about his brother bleeding, I start to wonder if my neighbors child is visiting this weekend, but I assume she is not, because there tends to be peace and quiet when she's around...he's a great parent.) So I am a bit more on edge, but tell myself that it will be over soon, as I am rocking myself in the corner of my closet. Oh wait, nope, that was during my childhood. So I lay in bed trying to apologize to God for the fact that there are a billion F-bombs swimming inside my head now, and hoping that he'll soon go inside. But, no luck.
He keeps going quieter as he relaxes into his drunkenness, but then somebody that's out there with him decides to make a comment (I am guessing) that sets him off again. So again I hear, loud as ever, "He's DEAD! No, I mean he's going to DIE! I'm gonna stomp his face into the curb!" Pure rage. My little heart putters and then drops into my butt. I am not a fan of violence, but I don't really do anything to stop it either..I'm sort of a wimp like that.
But I thought long and hard about if I should call the cops or not, and I felt that it's what needed to happen. I considered the fact that this guy was obviously way too drunk and probably had no idea what he was saying...but I figured a little scare from the police would hopefully deter him from continuing his tirade, and maybe keep his brother from instigating any more domestics. I can only hope though.
So I call 911.
I explain what's going on, the threats I heard him say, and that his brother may or may not be bleeding. Then, when they ask for the address, I go tard. Probably saying my address wrong about 5 times before writing it down to remember it. (side note, why does utah use numbers as road names?!) So, about 5 minutes later they show up.
I watch from the window, sense there's no point in trying to sleep until this is 100% over. (I'm too excited to sleep![Disney Commercial circa 1990])
And so, about 20 minutes later, after looking for blood on the brother outside and finding none, and apparently no hurt brother inside the house, they get all jolly and start laughing about stuff. Not sure what, seeing as they arn't screaming it anymore. So they all shake hands and little brother and friends go inside-brother limping.(?)
The cops stand around chit-chatting for a bit longer and then all jump-high five before sliding across the hoods of their cars and driving off. (Maybe I made that up.)
The end.
Hopefully this is the last of the domestics around here.
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