How about gunshots on my block, a hole in a neighbor's truck, and a miraculous escape from a gunman?
Will that do it?
Lat Saturday night around one o'clock in the morning, I heard what sounded like a cap gun. You know the sound. Tinny, small, quick pop, pop, pop. Three in a row.
It's always just firecrackers when I hear these. I ignored it.
Till the dogs started barking.
Then hubby went outside, being the brave masculine protector of the family that he is, and hid behind our van to see if anyone was, by chance, on our street. We lady folk huddled in the master bedroom at the back of the house and, well, freaked out. Everyone except me. I tend to be pretty low key most of the time. Mostly I just prayed for whoever it was out there, and for my husband.
He saw a man walking slowly down the middle of the street (there was a half moon out) and called out, "Hello?"
When there was no answer, and the guy kept walking toward him, my gallant hubby decided to save himself for his family and ran inside the front door, locking it behind him.
It was then that we heard , "Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop." Five more of those.
They were not, in fact firecrackers, or caps from a cap gun.
Turns out some guys came to a neighbor's house to collect some money he owed them. One of the girls of the house was just returning home and seeing trouble ran into the house just when he fired the five shots. She felt the air rush past her, but she was not hit. One of the bullets made a pretty hefty hole in the neighbor's truck.
We'd called 9-11 after the eighth shot, and apparently they caught the guys.
"I'm glad you're okay." I told my neighbor. And once again, I was thankful.
No comments:
Post a Comment