We were in bed last night, close to midnight, trying to fall asleep. I was just about to doze completely off, when we heard these blood curdling screams coming from the house next to us. It wasn’t like a “Oh, help, you’re tickling me and I want you to stop”; it was a “OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU KILLING ME?” type of screen. So, we called 911.
The cops came, complete with 3 squad cars, and eventually arrested someone that appeared to have been fleeing the scene. Before you get too worried, it wasn’t some random murderer. It was a man, and we’re not really sure what his connection is becuase we’d never seen him there before. There’s a lady that lives there, and the three dogs that bark all the damn time, which have resulted in two calls to the police. And there’s a somewhat nice guy that’s usually there anytime there are little kids there. So, really, we’re not sure of the connection. We just know their dogs’ names. We’re those kinds of neighbors.
Anyway, two of the police cars roll away and the one that’s left has Trashy McGee in the back of the car. I’m peering out the window, because my last name is Berry, and that’s just what we do in my family. The two leftover cops were talking to Trashy, and I could only hear bits and pieces of it. The only bit that stuck in my head: “I just know she loves me and I love her and there’s nothing left to argue about”. Mmm. That’s true love.
I kept The General up for a solid hour while I ran between the bedroom window and the kitchen window, wearing my glasses, a dark colored hoodie, and wielding a stick that’s normally used to pull our vertical blinds back and forth. The lights were naturally all of, because surely the cops couldn’t see my tiny frame popping back and forth between windows spying on their every move.
Shortly before I had to go to sleep (or quite possibly get kicked out of my own apartment), one cop (which I was calling Calleigh Duquesne) was on the phone with… I don’t know? Headquarters? Telling them what was going down, and that’s right about the time I learned the other cop’s name was McKenna. They dug around the trunk looking for something, which we assumed was an instruction manual on what to do now that they had someone in handcuffs and in the back of the car.
Calleigh Duquesne came into the apartment building a couple of times. We’re assuming it was because someone else had called the police and requested that they be informed of what was going on. I, on the other hand, told the friendly 911 operator that I didn’t care so much. And MAN, am I regretting that now.
