Karma
This is a great story to be shared with the world since my GF Hol doesn’t have a blog. Here it is: So its Sunday night at 10:30 pm. and my doorbell rings. Then the knocking starts. It gets insistent. Some of you know about the drunk that shows up at my door at all hours asking for money and yelling “Baby girl, can I talk to you?”
Well, last night, I decided to call the cops on him. “He’s been at my door for 15 minutes,” I told the cop.
“Who cares how to spell my last name. Quit asking me questions and send someone!”
I sneak around, turning off lights, all the while, the ringing and knocking continues.
“That fucker,” I thought. “Banging on the door of a single woman’s house at 10:30 at night. This is bullshit and I mean business. You’re goin’ downtown!!”
Finally, I see a searchlight in my front yard. I stand behind the door listening to the cops. They knock. “Who is it?” I demand. “Minneapolis Police. This man out here claims he knows you.”
I open the door. There are two cop cars. Then, I hear this coming from the suspect, “Hol, I heard Charlton Heston died today and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. It’s Scott!”
I can see the silhouette of the Mountain Man’s muscular frame climbing out of one of the squad cars. I’m sort of excited but peeved at the same time.
“So you know him?” asks the cop.
“Yes sir, I do. That’s the Mountain Man. Supposedly, I was never going to see him again and yet here he is.”
The cops are standing on either side of me and they’re chuckling. “Oh shit,” I said. Now I feel bad. He’s a social worker. He saves starving families in poor countries for a living.”
Scott the Mountain Man told me after they left that he’d been slammed against the hood of the cop car, cuffed, frisked, felt up and down and then thrown into the squad car. “They got really rough!” he said.
He wasn’t angry at all, though. He was simply in the neighborhood and wanted to come over since he’s leaving town tomorrow… to visit his girlfriend in N. Carolina!
I have one word: Karma.