Right now its 12:40 am. For the last two hours someone has been ringing my doorbell. When I answer, there is no one there. Then they started tapping on my windows. At 12:30 I decided I'd had enough. So I grabbed the old Remington 870 and got out of bed.
My house has an old fashioned "mud room" which is basically a 4'X4' room with the outer door on one side and an inner door on the other. I turned off the lights in said mud room and waited very patiently. About three minutes later I hear footsteps up to the front of the house and the doorbell rings.
Now lets imagine for a moment that you're a 16 year old boy. You're out with your buddies, drinking and messing with some guy in the middle of the night. You ring his doorbell again, the door flies open and as the outer light comes on you see a very angry man in his underwear with a big black shotgun pointed at your head. Then comes that sweet, sweet sound. Cha-Chunk.
So I say to this kid, who's buddied have already vanished into the night, "Can I help you?" (Kid stands there looking like he's just pissed all over his pants.) "I said, can I help you?"
Finally the kid stammers, "I'm s-s-s-sorry. I have the wrong house. Please don't shoot me."
So I say, "What's your name?" He tells me his name and I reply with,"Oh really, are you Larry's son?" He says that he is.
I met his dad about two years ago, we meet every friday night at the bar for kareoke. So I pull out the cell phone and give him a call. Now is where it gets funny.
Larry answers the phone sounding very groggy and mildly annoyed. I make small talk with him for about a minute and then say, "Oh, the reason I called is that your son is here."
Explained what the kid was up to, and that he reeked of cheap booze then I hand the phone to the boy. Now, I couldn't hear what was said on the phone, but after a few minutes the kid hands the phone back to me. My buddy says to keep him right there and he'll come get him.
Dad shows up, appologizes and they leave. I don't think that kid'll be able to sit down tomorrow.
So what do you think? Did I handle that right? I'm not 100% certain that I needed to involve the shotgun.
My house has an old fashioned "mud room" which is basically a 4'X4' room with the outer door on one side and an inner door on the other. I turned off the lights in said mud room and waited very patiently. About three minutes later I hear footsteps up to the front of the house and the doorbell rings.
Now lets imagine for a moment that you're a 16 year old boy. You're out with your buddies, drinking and messing with some guy in the middle of the night. You ring his doorbell again, the door flies open and as the outer light comes on you see a very angry man in his underwear with a big black shotgun pointed at your head. Then comes that sweet, sweet sound. Cha-Chunk.
So I say to this kid, who's buddied have already vanished into the night, "Can I help you?" (Kid stands there looking like he's just pissed all over his pants.) "I said, can I help you?"
Finally the kid stammers, "I'm s-s-s-sorry. I have the wrong house. Please don't shoot me."
So I say, "What's your name?" He tells me his name and I reply with,"Oh really, are you Larry's son?" He says that he is.
I met his dad about two years ago, we meet every friday night at the bar for kareoke. So I pull out the cell phone and give him a call. Now is where it gets funny.
Larry answers the phone sounding very groggy and mildly annoyed. I make small talk with him for about a minute and then say, "Oh, the reason I called is that your son is here."
Explained what the kid was up to, and that he reeked of cheap booze then I hand the phone to the boy. Now, I couldn't hear what was said on the phone, but after a few minutes the kid hands the phone back to me. My buddy says to keep him right there and he'll come get him.
Dad shows up, appologizes and they leave. I don't think that kid'll be able to sit down tomorrow.
So what do you think? Did I handle that right? I'm not 100% certain that I needed to involve the shotgun.
