Thursday, January 10, 2008

At Last...

Well, Sarah and I finally learned who owned the block we live on.  I mean, it's been months, and we never knew who we needed to thank for such a safe and pleasant neighborhood.  

Last night, there was some loud action outside on the street a few houses down.  Drunkish dudes were scrapping and swearing at each other.  I looked out the window to see a conversion van(which replaced the previous van we called the locust) illuminating the asphalt in front of it.  There was a case of beer in the street, and above it a fellow stood gesticulating and instigating some kind of confrontation with another nice man.  

The large man that was doing the most yelling moved the beer towards the curb and began taking off his jacket, and then his shirt.  As he stood, apparently ready, in a tank top in the night, it looked like a lickin' was going to be given.  

Instead, a neighbor approached.  Apparently he was annoyed by the yelling that had been going on for almost half an hour.  He said to the stripped man, "Yo, people are tryin' to sleep around here.  Watchu doin' making noise like that"?  "Now go on home!"  He punctuated his sentence with the ultra-recognizable sound of a shot gun being cocked.  

Now, Sarah and I are heavy heavy into season 5 of 24.  The sound of the shot gun sounded like the 9mm we always hear from the stereo.  Either way, my attention increased.  "Where is this going"?  I thought.  Well, the fellow with the gun had apparently made his point and turned towards home, stowing the tool inside his jacket.  At this point Sarah decided to move out from in front of the front window.  

"Ohh, you brought your piece"? the now clothed man inquired.  I think the nice fighting men were as surprised to hear that sound as I was.  Some yelling down the street followed, as well as some slow walking in the middle of the road with arms raised in some form of communication  Then, in a sing songy voice, the slow walker said, "I know where you liiiiiive".  

There was a moment of silence, then a fella comes down the sidewalk in front of our house to yell, "Hey!!  I don't know who you are..." " This MY block!"  That was followed by a "Luuuunnnnaaaaahhhhh!!!" and "Emmmppuuuuuuyaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!"  

At long last, we know who runs our block.  May the days of Empuuyaaah be long and profitable.  

5 comments:

The Angry Coder said...

Let me get this straight, a guy peels off his shirt down to his wife beater, there's case of beer in the street and another dude shows up with a shotgun? And you live in Kansas City? Now if you lived in Independence I'd say "duh"... but there are no trailers in midtown that I am aware of so this is a bit confusing. Did you recognize anyone from Springer? It was probably too dark to tell. Next you'll tell us that you never got a fruit basket when you moved in.

grk said...

you got a fruit basket?!? maaaann...

The Angry Coder said...

In the midwest we just give tomatos.

Percussivity said...

Ummm... we got a pie.


Seriously.

(it was an older couple who lived across the street and a few houses down... they were obviously grandparents)

To be brutally honest though my impression of them was that they were just overjoyed to see more white folks move in. I never saw them give pies to my other neighbors.

...Is Johnson said...

...sounds like a good night in KC. My mission for tonight is to find out who is running things here in Macon. I'm not a big beer fan so I will drink lots of juice and wiat for my Crystal Light muscles to appear beofre getting down to my wife beater. Great stry on a day I needed a laugh!!