Anyway, here I'm just watching chick flicks. Got the rest of the weekend to myself. LOVING it. All of a sudden, POP-POP-POP!!!!! TWICE! DOWN! DOWN! DOWN! I pulled my dog off the couch and we hit the floor like crumbs from the bottom of a bucket of KFC.
What the fuck, is this a DRIVE-BY??? In MY neighborhood? This is supposed to be the HIGH end of town, YO!
Neighbors came out their doors, my dog went OFF, running around like a five-year-old on a chocolate milk binge, and I smelled smoke.
Then...nothing. Either there was a murder-suicide nearby, or someone really needs a tune-up. OR, I've just developed a fear of firecrackers. GREAT. ANOTHER phobia to confront. FUCK.
I didn't hear any sirens, so I went back to my kleenex-fest. Thank GOD I don't have the dreaded chickflickaphobia...nor do I have the fear of the "F" word.
FUCK I hate shit like that. And I can't wait to get the hell out of this place.
4 comments:
Yikes. I can sympathize, I really can. When it actually is gunshots, a person just gets more jittery around cars misfiring or firecrackers setting off.
akelda ~ exactly. Doesn't make it any easier to sleep, either!
Jeez!
Did you ever find out what happened?
What movies were you watching? I hope you enjoyed the rest of your weekend after the near death experience. It would be really fucked up if you found out a week later that one of your neighbors has been decomposing in his or her apartment.
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