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Home with the Downies Pt. 2

June 8, 2008

(Continued from here)

So there they were in our living room. Hiding out, they called it. Although it was a pretty poor game of hide-and-seek since their attackers had watched them flee into the house. Still, no one had kicked the door down yet so there was a fair chance that we would make it through the night.

“I’d like to stab those guys in the neck!” the boy declared fiercely. “I have a heap of brothers living nearby. I should call them up and we could hunt those guys down and stab them!” The girl sniffled in agreement.

“No, no, no. Let’s not.” I found this talk of stabbing quite unsettling. I also had images of the house turning into a gang headquarters. Not a good thought at all.

“Hey, could I get a drink?” the boy suddenly asked, eyeing the cabinet of booze.

“No, you’re not old enough. I’ll get you some water,” my housemate replied smoothly. “Look, do you guys want to call someone to pick you up?”

The girl accepted the phone with another sniffle. As she recounted the situation to the person on the other end of the line, I watched the boy eye our alcohol and electronics with what appeared to be a decidedly calculating expression. My heart skipped a beat. Was he…was he casing the joint? Was he planning to return later with his heap of brothers and rob us blind? Oh god, was a gang of burglars going to turn up instead of a rescue party? I stared intently at my housemate and tried to beam him my misgivings.

“Jamie, go to the toilet if you need to. I can handle things here.”

Foiled by his poor mind-reading ability! Didn’t he understand that how much danger we could be in, especially since we could identify two of our would-be burglars? We sat there in tense silence (interjected with the odd sniffle from the girl who evidently had something against tissues), waiting for the ‘rescue party’ to turn up. I mentally catalogued everything that we could use as weapons.

A car honked outside! The girl peered anxiously out the window while I moved discreetly closer to a butter knife left lying on the kitchen counter. “It’s Sam!” she confirmed with a look of relief. They thanked us for our help and ran out to the car.

“Well, that was exciting,” my housemate remarked.

I hmm-ed noncommittally as I watched the car drive away. Then I shut the door. And locked it.

The other housemate was not impressed when he returned the morning after was informed of what he had missed. “Why,” he asked disbelievingly, “didn’t anyone think to call the cops?”

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Vimalan permalink
    June 8, 2008 5:50 pm

    Yeah?!? Why, didn’t anyone call the police? HA HA HA. Ghetto betul your place. Get a machetes of your own, so something bigger like a butter knife. lolz.

  2. Chubby Zebra permalink
    June 13, 2008 8:33 am

    I should get a big, scary DOG!!

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