Why? Why does this shit only happen to ME??? WHY??? How fucked up is my karma that I can’t lead a fucking normal dull life??
So, we just got back from the police station.
Holly, our dog, started barking about 3 am. Non stop, continuous barking – which she NEVER does at night. Paul was yelling downstairs “HOLLY! Shut the fuck up!” But she wouldn’t. Then it started dawning on Paul “You know, this bark isn’t her normal bark…” So he gets up to go downstairs and see what’s up.
He yells at Holly, then I hear the fridge door open, then close, then I hear Paul start yelling and I hear “scuffling” noises. And Paul is yelling “Motherfucker!! What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Then Paul yells up the stairs to me “KIM!! CALL 911! This fucker is in my house!”
I hear someone yelling at Paul, but I can’t make out what this person is saying – just phrases here and there because mostly I hear Paul screaming “I’m going to kill you motherfucker.” And Holly is barking and there’s the sound of punching going on – and I don’t know if this person is armed or if he’s fighting Paul and I’m calling 911 and getting transferred for some reason and finally I get the Malone police on the line and I’m telling the dispatcher “Look, dude, you better send someone over here, because I think my husband is killing someone.”
I didn’t dare go downstairs, and the dispatcher guy is telling me “Stay on the line – don’t hang up…” and I hear him tell the cop car “Go to this address – intruder in the residence – altercation.” And he comes back on the line with me and he says “Do you know the person?” And I said “Well, I doubt my husband is killing a friend – I would say no – we don’t know them.” And he’s asking me “Is the person armed?” I say “I don’t know – I’m upstairs and I’m not going downstairs. If he’s armed – Paul is on his own, because I’m jumping out the fucking window.” The dispatcher tells me not to go downstairs, and I tell him there’s no fear of that happening.
He keeps asking me “What’s happening now?” And I keep saying the same thing – “my husband is killing him.” It’s odd that it never occurred to me that the guy might be beating Paul up rather than the other way around, but since the only one I could actually *understand* was Paul and Paul kept saying things like “Dude, you broke into the wrong fucking house”, I assumed that Paul was the one doing the killing – not the other way around.
Finally the police get here – the dispatcher says “The police are in front of your house” and I tell the dispatcher “I don’t know who’s going to be able to answer the door” – and the dispatcher says “They’ll go right in..” But the front door is locked. I hear them try to open the door, then bang and then they are trying to break the door in, and I run downstairs and unlock the door – and they burst in with guns drawn and Paul comes out of the dining room with this guy in a full nelson and the guy is bleeding like a stuck pig. Paul picks the guy up – literally, just picks him up by the hair and the pants and THROWS him onto the front porch and says to the cops “Get this motherfucker out of here before he gets hurt.”
One cop takes the guy and puts handcuffs on him. The other cop comes into the house with his flashlight on (there were no lights on at all downstairs) and he’s shining his flashlight all over and I flip the dining room light on and it looks like a fucking slaughterhouse in there – there’s blood EVERYWHERE. All over the floor, all over one wall, all over one dining room chair. The cop didn’t say a word, and we are asking HIM questions like “Who is this guy? Do you know him? What the fuck?”
We go out on the porch with the second cop and the first cop and the guy are gone – vanished. The cop shines his light around and here’s the first cop running down the driveway towards the Harley shed and he yells back at us “He ran!” So now the intruder is in handcuffs and running through our back lot. Paul takes off down the driveway after the cop yelling “Don’t let that fucker into my barn, man”. And the first cop goes around the Harley shed into the back lot. He comes back a few minutes later with the intruder. The cop on the porch with me is laughing saying “Why the hell would he run? He’s got handcuffs on and we know who he is”. I say “Well, can you let ME know who he is?” And the cop tells me his name. It’s not a name I recognize at all. And the cop does tell me he’s 17, a “known offender”, and “familiar to law enforcement.”
So then the cop tells us that we need to go to the police station to give statements – something I really want to be doing at 3 am, let me tell ya. The cop tells us that if we don’t go and give statements that they’ll have to let the guy go, and I really didn’t want to see that happen, so we get changed and go down to the station and give statements.
Of course, there really isn’t much to my statement – I never went downstairs during the whole thing – I didn’t go downstairs until the cops got there. So I can’t tell them much. I don’t know how he got in – I don’t know who he is and I don’t know what he was saying when he was saying shit in between the punching.
We were in different rooms, so I have no idea what Paul said in his statement.
When we got back home, Paul looked at the back door – and it was still locked, so all we can guess is he came in through a window somewhere – although it’s not readily apparent which window. Unless, of course, he locked the door again when he came in through it. I don’t know.
The cops charged him with criminal trespass, attempted burglary of a domicile and unlawful flight (which was the running down the driveway thing).
When the cop found out Paul’s name he looks at Paul and says “Oh yeah, Paul…I didn’t recognize you without all the rubble on you.” He said he was one of the responding officers when the house fell on Paul.
When Paul was throwing the guy onto the porch the guy yells out “Dude, don’t throw me – I’m drunk!” Paul says “Yeah, well now you’re punch drunk, motherfucker”.
So, I still don’t know who this kid is, Paul is going to find out tomorrow – or today or whatever the hell today or tomorrow is. We know his name -and the way all these fucking Malonians are related, he’s got to be the kin of somebody that Paul knows.
I just want to know WHY the hell he came to OUR house when there’s a perfectly good empty house next door and another perfectly good empty house across the street. I mean, if he was just looking for a place to sleep his drunk off, why not go there? And if he wanted to rob somebody – why fucking me? What the fuck do I have worth robbing? The Harley shed has much more valuable shit in it, and it wasn’t even locked – why climb though a fucking window to steal shit I ain’t got?
Paul is thoroughly pissed. He says he’s lived in Detroit and Flint and Florida and never had anyone break into his damned house – and now he comes to backwater USA and has someone break in? What the fuck? I’m just glad this guy picked *this* weekend instead of LAST weekend when Paul couldn’t even fucking move. I would have been shit out of luck trying to deal with an intruder on my own. There’s no way I could have kicked his ass the way Paul did.
And now I have to go clean up all the fucking blood.
Why me???? Why?? Why does this stupid ass shit always happen to me??