Last night, at 1:30 in the morning, I heard wailing. Coming out of a deep sleep, my first thought was that as cute as he is, Mr. Mocha Latte is a pain in the butt, and what I was hearing was a cat fight. As the noise became louder, accompanied by pounding, it became clear that this was not two cats going at it, it was decidedly human noise interfering with my slumber. I think it was the repeated use of the F word. And the MF word. Maybe it was the BS word. Anyway, as a screen door slammed and the voices trailed down the street, I thought I'd heard the worst of this heated discussion, so I went back to sleep.
At 1:40, just as I was drifting off, the voices returned with a vengeance and so did the pounding. Thoroughly irritated, I got out of bed and tried to wait it out. After 15 minutes, the situation was going downhill, so we called the police. I think the entire on duty police force showed up, indicating that perhaps we weren't the only ones calling for an end to this middle of the night nonsense-every house in the neighborhood was lit up like it was Christmas. The officers were very cordial to the drunkard next door. They gave him every opportunity to stop shouting and encouraged him to go inside and go to bed. For about 10 minutes, they cajoled him and comforted him in his stupor. Once again, the neighborhood was quiet, so they turned to leave. The officers didn't even get to their squad cars when the dolt started screaming out his profanities again. Funny though, he did quiet down right away when they cuffed him and dragged him off to the local jail. God bless those boys in blue.
I can pick 'em, can't I?