I'm glad the police will be taking away the fireworks car, hopefully today.
In my usual narcissitic way, I can even relate your event to my own life (sorry!):
When we were young, my husband, toddler Kate, and I lived in a row house in Atlanta. Next door to us lived a wild hippie woman who wore long dresses with matching headbands. She took up with one of the yard men who mowed the grass who was, unfortunately, married to a very fierce and unforgiving woman, and that woman and her friends took revenge on Connie the wild woman.
R and I were asleep one night when we heard a pounding on our front door and Connie's hysterical voice: "Let me in! I need to use your phone! Let me in!"
R ran down the stairs and I ran into Kate's nursery at the front of the house, where I looked out into the night.
Connie's old green Corvair was parked in front of our house, and it was on fire! Flames were totally engulfing it, and in the shadows beyond was a line of neighbors silhoutted against the orange light.
R let Connie in, and she called the police, who, of course, could do nothing but arrange to have the hulk of the car hauled away. But Connie knew exactly who had done it, and so did the entire neighborhood.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-08 12:14 pm (UTC)I'm glad the police will be taking away the fireworks car, hopefully today.
In my usual narcissitic way, I can even relate your event to my own life (sorry!):
When we were young, my husband, toddler Kate, and I lived in a row house in Atlanta. Next door to us lived a wild hippie woman who wore long dresses with matching headbands. She took up with one of the yard men who mowed the grass who was, unfortunately, married to a very fierce and unforgiving woman, and that woman and her friends took revenge on Connie the wild woman.
R and I were asleep one night when we heard a pounding on our front door and Connie's hysterical voice: "Let me in! I need to use your phone! Let me in!"
R ran down the stairs and I ran into Kate's nursery at the front of the house, where I looked out into the night.
Connie's old green Corvair was parked in front of our house, and it was on fire! Flames were totally engulfing it, and in the shadows beyond was a line of neighbors silhoutted against the orange light.
R let Connie in, and she called the police, who, of course, could do nothing but arrange to have the hulk of the car hauled away. But Connie knew exactly who had done it, and so did the entire neighborhood.
Those wives knew how to keep wild women in line.