The night I almost died! Zang!

So, last Saturday night, I planned to run to the grocery store to pick up a few things, and then meet Matt at my house to cook some Easter stuff. I put on my coat, and started walking up to the street where my car is parked (my loving neighborhood thinks it a sin to let lowly, cooties-infested renters to park on their precious streets of gold--so during every thunder storm, think of me trudging up the hill to my heat-less truck). As it so happens, this street is un-lit (my neighbors care a great deal about the safety of young single females). Unfortunetely, I walk up there all the time, but somehow, that night, it felt strange--it felt particularly creepy. So I decided, this night, that I would turn around and just wait for Matt to take me to the store.

As Matt got off work, he drove down past my car and to my driveway to pick me up. As we drove back up the hill towards the store, he casually mentioned that I'd left my dome light on. We swing by to check it, and find, mysteriously, that it had gone out. I thought perhaps the battery had died, and not to be left stranded on a rushing Easter morning, we thought we'd stop to check it, and jump it if necessary. Matt pulls up next to the truck, and I jump out of his car. I shut the door quick, and he begins fiddling with the radio, turning it up loud.

I reach for the lockless door handle on my darkened car ( I never keep valuables in there, and I ain't got a stereo no more, thank you very much jerks) on the pitch black street, open it up, and A GUY JUMPS OUT OF MY TRUCK AT ME!!!!!!!! Oh my gosh, holy S, "what the **** are you doing!!???" I scream, as I'm trying to process the most shocking thing ever.

"Uh, uh, oh, I'm sorry, I'm just, uh, hiding"

"What the hell are you hiding from!!!!!????" says a still completely freaking out me.

"oh, uh, my friend, he lives over there, I'm just, I'm sorry, sorry" he holds his hands up apologetically (though I wish it was in arrest). He's tall, looks like 18 or so, and decked out in thug life gear.

"Which House!!!??? Why the hell are you hiding!!"

"uh, that one, right there, I'm just, gonna scare him, uh, sorry" he says as I notice his low rider pimped out truck parked dangerously close to mine.

I still haven't got my bearings back at that point, not knowing what to make of an skinny, white, apologetic, gangster jumping out of my truck into my face. I had no point of reference to make a decision about punching him, calling the cops, or stealing his big fat 'bling' and taking off with it. So what do I do? I give him a motherly lecture. Don't blame me, I was scared out of my mind, and still in shock!

"You don't scare people!! You don't go in other people's cars! You just don't! What are you thinking?! What the hell are you thinking?? That is NOT ok, it's just not ok!!!"

"Uh, I'm real sorry, I didn't take nothing, im sorry, I, uh,"

"I don't care if you're sorry! It is not OK to GO in other people's cars!! Ever!! What the hell are you doing?! Don't ever do that again! What's your name!"

"um, um, Jason"

"Get the hell out of here!!!!"

"ok, sorry."

Way to go D, don't call the cops or anything, scold him, scold the hell out of him! Maybe I should have asked him to hold out his wrists so I could slap them a few times.

Where was Matt, you ask? Still rockin' out, not noticing much, as he couldn't see anything, and didn't hear us over the stereo. But luckily, near the end of my fearsome lecture, he looks up and see's me talking to this guy, so he rolls down his window, thinking its my neighbor or something. He hears me yelling, and begins looking for his giant lug wrench. But never fear, my mothering tactics scared the criminal away. Mr. "Jason um sorry" jumped in his 'pimp my ride' wonder truck, and sped off.

I quickly relayed the story to Matt, and we both sat struck in surprise, trying to figure out what just happened. I went down to said "friends house", as I thought I recalled a boy did live there. I thought I would just check, to see if they were just messing around. Surely no boy did live there, but they mentioned that there was a little bastard that used to live next door but got kicked out of his house (mainly for death threats on my neighbor and her young daughter, and I'd like to hope for being the jerk that ripped the face off my stereo a few months back). The daughter said, based on the Tupac description, that he sounded like a guy named Henry, who had gotten kicked out of several schools, and a one Bellevue Christian as well (my sparkly fun alma mater).

So I called the cops. Funny thing, they arrived about 30 seconds into the phone call. They had just been responding to a call where a group of boys, pissed at some other dude, had taken crow bars and smashed all the windows out of his house. Someone called them in, and they all scattered and hid. So the cops thought perhaps this was one of the hiding criminals (ah, my oh-so-safe rich white neighborhood).

But looking further, it seems strange that he would drive his truck up next to mine to hide. They ran the plates, and it came up as unregistered, but purchased. However, it happened to be the same truck as mine, and same year (just waaay more fancy lookin'). So we thought perhaps this guy was looking for parts, and we caught him totally off guard in the act. Or, seeing my truck lockless in the dome lit night, maybe he was checking for a stereo. Busted, yay! And it was probably in his best interest to sit and explain kindly so as to look especially innocent rather than running away and having the cops on him immediately.

bastard!!! Trying to steal stuff from a hard working, church going, single, young lady's seriously piece of **** car. Pisses me off so much. But I guess I'm just glad he didn't beat me up. If I hadn't of had that weird feeling, and God hadn't turned me right around, I may have surprised him much more, walking up quietly in the dark night, alone, and maybe he would have been a lot more violent. I didn't press charges, as I don't want to become the next neighborhood crime target...again.

If you see a pimpin' low rider blue mazda truck, ram it.