Let’s subtitle this post
“Julie Almost Gets To Call The Cops, And By “Cops” She Means The Local Non-Emergency Police Hotline”
INT: Julie’s Apartment. Night.
She enters the front door after a long day of work, putting down her keys, taking off her shoes, etc; etc; She sits down to eat her dinner* while aimlessly flipping through television stations. She pauses. What is that noise?
Cue distant sound of a car alarm.
I go to the back door, but see nothing. Our complex abuts a subdivision of single-family homes; I figure the sound could be coming from either one of the properties (but no, not really. Of course it’s coming from the apartment complex. I just can’t see that far down the parking lot).
The time: approximately 8:20 pm
I return to my dinner-and-television, abandoning my meal when my mother texts me about a special on the National Geographic channel that turns me into a weeping, bawling mess.** I am transfixed, but resurface up to reality when I realize the car alarm is still sounding.
The time: approximately 8:45 pm
Okay. Enough’s enough. Now the only sound I can hear is the car alarm.
Cue internal monologue:
Seriously? Am I the only one who can fucking hear that? Really, people? TURN OFF YOUR DAMN ALARM! Fucking A! Fine, fine. If no one else is gonna do anything I will. Jeeeee-sussss.
So Julie gathers her phone and keys and heads off into the far reaches of the parking lot.
The further into the abyss I venture the louder the sound. Okay. Definitely coming from this lot. Then I spot blinking lights cast onto some bushes. Awesome. Why is no one DOING anything? I get my phone, pull up the local non-emergency police number, and briefly wonder if this would, in fact, warrant a call. It’s been going off for at least twenty minutes, I remember, and just as I’m about to dial…
The alarm stops.
Jeeeee-susssss! Aloud, this time.
Back to my apartment I go.
Once inside, I clean up my dinner remnants. As I’m scraping and washing and dishwasher-loading, I stop.
Wait. Is that–?
Fucking hell. SERIOUSLY?
It’s the car alarm again.
I go to the balcony to make sure I’m not just experiencing some sort of auditory hallucination but sure enough! The same damn alarm is just a-blarin’ away.
Oh, it is on, motherfucker. Where’s my phone?!
But wait. I think it stopped. Did it stop? Is it going to start again? What the hell is going on? WHY ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME, CAR ALARM?***
I go outside again, walking toward the original source. Silence.
Alright, alright, you win this time, assface.
*Review in brief:
Qdoba tacos? Eh. Not my fave.
**This. It is incredibly moving.
***Sorry, that should read: Why are you fucking with me AND EVERYONE ELSE WHO LIVES WITHIN SIX BLOCKS?
the sloppy copy 