I live downtown and directly across the street from an after hours dance club. I have never had an issue living across the street from an after hours dance club before, thanks to my trusty bedroom fan that is broken and clatters and drowns out all background noise. But Trusty Fan, no matter how hard and fast he flapped his little fan wings last night, could not compete with the vehement cries of a man on the street below. He woke me at 4 am and I thought for sure someone was about to be killed.
I will try re-telling the tale using the classic Twas the Night Before Christmas poem. This can be my Christmas gift to you.
Twas three nights after Christmas
when all through the house
not a creature was stirring
not even a mouse
(because the cat killed it on Christmas morning…
Merry Christmas, Mouse family!)
The Star Wars stockings were
scattered around the living room
with little care,
in hopes that my roommate would
clean them up so I wouldn’t have to do it.
The one person in the house was nestled
somewhat snugly in her bed
While visions of lucky sevens and jackpots
danced in her head.
There was no mama in her kerchief or pa
in his cap because I’m 25 and live alone
and now I can’t save the rhyme scheme but
I’ll try to keep going.
When out on the street there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash (ha…we all know that’s not true)
Peeked out through the shutters and hid behind the sash (so I wouldn’t draw attention to myself and perhaps also be murdered)
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to the drunkards below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But two severely intoxicated men, one cowering in fear.
Christ this poem is long, I give up. I will just tell the story like a normal human tells stories.
So basically I was watching what appeared to be a fight. There was a very drunk, very loud man screaming at another man and there were many other people circling them like hyenas. It was like I was watching Scar cornering and attempting to murder Simba while the hyenas looked on, laughing.
I was legitimately concerned for a few minutes when I heard this guy screaming.
Drunk angry guy was all up in the other guy’s business and he was so loud that I could hear him across the street and up a few stories as if I were standing right next to him. He kept looking down at the other guy and screaming
“OH MY GOD.
OH MY GOD.
GET OVER HERE, MOTHERF*!@ER.
OH MY GOD.
The “get over here, motherf*#ker” part was confusing to me because he literally couldn’t have been any closer to this guy.
“This is it,” I thought. “He’s about to kill him and I will be that person who stood in the window and watched instead of calling 9-1-1.” Yet I kept watching and kept not dialing 9-1-1.
He then proceeded to call him a motherf#@ker about 30 times and then kept screaming WHERE THE F!@K YOU’VE BEEN? a hundred times.
Holy crap, I thought. This is it. He’s about to beat the crap out of this guy right in front of me.
And then he hugged him for what seemed like an eternity and screamed I LOVE YOU.
Interesting plot twist, I thought.
Then more screaming:
WHERE THE F@!K YOU’VE BEEN?
WHERE THE F*@K YOU’VE BEEN?
WHAT THE F*@K ARE YOU DOING HERE?
OH MY GOD.
I’VE BEEN ENGAGED FOR 2 MONTHS MAN
I’M SO HAPPY
WHERE THE F@#K YOU’VE BEEN?
“So this is what a high school reunion at 4 am outside a dance club looks like,” I thought, and then let the bass of the dubstep music rock me to sleep.
Merry Christmas, internet.