Monday, May 14, 2007

Police Activity


(UPDATE: Crime scene photos at end of post) I was out running an errand on Friday afternoon and came across a horrific sight. A teenage boy, likely around 15 or so, violently shaking a young tree that had just been planted. I watched with growing anger from across the street as the little bastard continued.

The tree snapped off, a few inches from the roots. The little fucker needed to die.

He flung the tree, hitting the brick wall of the corner nail salon. Apparently, they were the focus of his rage. Could he not get an appointment today? Was he dissatisfied with his last manicure?

I continued to watch the little demon, as he was now attempting to pull the nail salon’s air conditioner unit out of the wall. It would have been apt for it to fall out and crush him at that point.

Unsatisfied, the bastard (and his two retarded friends) headed up the block, where they began to reach over a fence and dig for stones outside someone’s house. They then threw these stones at the house, hoping to shatter a window, or take out an eye.

Enough, little fuckers. Not in my neighborhood. My inner avenger was now activated. Click Read More to find out what happens next.


I pulled out my cell phone to call 911. It’s not every day that I witness things like this. And it’s not every day I have the courage to do something about it. After I dialed, my phone made a tone that I never heard before, lending an extra bit of drama to the situation. Is this the Verizon emergency siren?

I blurted out all the information to the operator in one breath, determined to get the cops here before these bastards got away. I was frustrated when he told me to repeat myself. “Twenty ninth street and Ditmars boulevard!” I said, trying to sound as clear as possible. I wanted the cops to come immediately, nightsticks swinging. When I hung up, I noticed that the display on my phone read EMERGENCY MODE. Interesting.

By now, the three derelicts were just loitering about 50 feet from the corner, looking for more people to piss off. I noticed Chinese food delivery guy on his bike, stopped in the middle of the street. They must have thrown something at him as well.

I crossed the street and went into the nail salon, where I asked anyone if anyone saw what just happened. I announced that I had called the police, but most of them couldn’t have cared less. One woman came out to talk to me, her cute little girl in tow. Together, we determined that a) they weren’t from any of the two schools in the immediate area, and b) they needed to be jailed immediately.

“Where the hell are the cops?” I wondered out loud.
“They probably won’t show,” she said.

As luck would have it, these three little idiots didn’t even think to leave the scene of the crime, so it was very easy to monitor them. I tried to memorize their appearance but they all wore mostly black clothes.

Suddenly, the real crazy kid, the one who broke the tree, started heading back toward the corner, yelling "fuck you!" at the air. Clearly, there were drugs involved. Unfortunately not a lethal dose.

I turned to the woman and her kid. “You might want to go back inside, he’s coming back.” Suddenly, I realized that maybe this kid, dumb enough to hang around, might be on to the fact that I’m watching him. I walked down to the bagel store and stood casually under their awning. I saw the derelict run across Ditmars boulevard, as if to catch the bus.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I said, clenching my fists, now convinced he was going to get away. This would be particularly embarrassing when the cops came and arrested me for filing a false police report. I did get a good look at his appearance this time. I rehearsed how I would describe it to the cops, having watched far too many episodes of COPS and Hot Pursuit on Court TV. Yeah, suspect is wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, jeans, white sneakers, and carrying a white plastic bag. Possibly high on meth. Fire at will. Incredibly, the stupid kid ran back across the avenue at 28th street, as the bus pulled away. I headed back to the corner, where the kid popped out, having taken a shortcut through the alley way behind the row of stores on Ditmars.

Where the hell are they? I said to myself. In my head, I tried to come up with all the charges I thought would apply here: destruction of public property, menacing, attempted assault, aggravated harassment, drug abuse, and littering. I was hoping he’d get the chair.

I looked down the block to see the cops finally arrive. Their overhead lights turned off as they got closer. I grabbed my witness, and together we described them to the cops. When I blurted out, “Three Hispanic males,” I felt stupid because the cop himself was Hispanic. Then I felt myself age 30 years when I described the kid as wearing “blue denim jeans.” In my defense, this particular cop happened to have waxed eyebrows, so I guess I was distracted by this.

“Okay, thank you,” he said calmly. They pulled away, turned the corner and raced down the block as we watched, cheering, “Get em! Get the little bastards!” We might as well have had pitchforks and flaming torches.

The cop car stopped in the middle of the street, which caused a nasty line of impatient drivers to line up behind them, honking their horns.

A second cop car arrived, and I tried to make sure that I “recreated” what I saw to the other passerby, hoping to attract attention from the cops. Maybe I’d end up with a medal of honor or a spot on the 6 o’clock news. Local man saves neighborhood from violent gang of thugs. Instead, this second cop car simply raced up the block.

Before you can say “detention,” these little bastards were surrounded by cops and being ordered to sit down on the curb. I watched eagerly, waiting for the handcuffs to come out. I noticed a man in a white shirt talking to the cops. Possible witness? Or nosey neighbor?

Unfortunately, due to their ages, it looked like the most these bastards were going to get was a summons, so I walked up the block in an attempt to solidify their fates.

I didn’t look at the kids, but I could feel them watch me nervously. Maybe they did see me after all and were now just realizing that they weren’t so tough anymore.

A thick tree took up most of the space on the sidewalk, with the rest taken up by a burly cop who had his back to me. I slithered past and saw the same cop I’d spoken to earlier.

“I’m the one who saw them break the tree,” I offered, hoping this would toughen their punishments. I hoped for the swift application of handcuffs and calls to their mothers as they begged for forgiveness.

“That’s okay,” he said, “We got it. Thanks.” Now I felt truly, truly stupid. I could have just let it go, but my inner “avenger” was activated and only the sight of these three being arrested would appease it. I could hear my mother’s voice clearly: Mind your own business!

Maybe next time I’ll make a shopping list.



5 comments:

Eleni said...

Love it, babe...absolutely LOVE IT...and, the fact that I heard it in person yesterday, before you wrote it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside...LOL...love ya

Paynin Diaz said...

More people should be calling the cops! If I were you, I would insist on pressing charges. They had no right to destroy that tree. Or any other propery for that matter.
Too bad nothing will come of it, though. Those little shit-wads won't even see a fine. They'll get sent back to their hatchery where the grandmother will, no doubt, be the only one waiting for them. So no discpline what-so-ever, no lesson learned.

Chris said...

Diaz, you hit the nail on the head. You can just imagine the life of crime that is ahead of those kids.

Moda di Magno said...

With luck someone will snap their stupid little heads off. Preferably a wood nymph on vacation in NYC. Who the hell attacks a tree. More cats, less kids.

Steven said...

What ever happened to knocking down the convenience store on the corner?