BANG, BANG, BANG.
It was the loudest knock on the door I’ve ever heard. And it was also midnight.
I’d like to let you know (or remind a few of you) that I have a pretty crazy mind. More often than not, I have nightmares. So, when I heard a knock as loud and powerful as that, I definitely pictured a murderer at our door.
“What the heck is going on!?” I asked Justin.
Bandit started freaking out. He was barking and I was bitching. Perfect combo.
There were car lights right outside the door and I heard people talking.
I was absolutely wigging out.
“Don’t get it!!!” I whispered, hoping the Charles Manson vision in my head wouldn’t hear me. “You don’t have to answer.”
Justin grabbed a pair of basketball shorts and threw them on. Backwards. No shirt, just chest hair. He walks out of the bedroom.
“OMG, don’t go! What if it’s a polite rapist who knocks first?!” I whispered, begging him not to answer the door.
Justin opened the door.
Welp, my life is now the movie “My Bloody Valentine.”
“Hello, sir are you Frank Sinatra,” the voice asked. (I made up the name, I have no idea what he asked. Number one, I was hiding behind the door like a little biatch with Bandit trying to bust down the door).
“No, I’m Justin Sieb,” my hubby asked.
It’s cops. Okay, not polite rapist. I can breathe again.
“How long have you lived hear?” the cop asked Justin.
“About five months,” Justin said.
I seriously just imagine Justin’s face looking like a deer in headlights. And then he came to, “Yeah – you guys just caught me off guard.”
Another voice answered, “Yeah, you had to go to the bathroom and flush all your weed down the toilet.”
“Hahhahaha,” they all laughed.
Me? I was confused. Not laughing. Justin laughed.
“Yeah, I just know Frank because his mail comes here because he didn’t change his address. Like stuff from the BMV and what not.”
“Well, he didn’t get anything from the BMV because he doesn’t have a license,” the weed joking cop said.
“Ohh,” Justin laughed. “Okay!”
“Well – thank you sir, have a great night!” one of the cops said.
Then he got on his walkie talkie and said, “Stand down, bad address.”
Stand down? What is there a SWAT team outside? What in the WORLD did Frank do? Is his the polite rapist? OMG, get over that, Ashley.
“What was that about?!” I asked rushing out of the bedroom.
“Well, there were four cops at the door and I think probably more at the back,” Justin said. “I have no idea what Frank did, but it probably wasn’t good. Oh, and there was a guy with a video camera too.”
A VIDEO CAMERA?!?! OMG is my husband’s statement going to end up on Cops?!
“I think they use it to record to cover there asses in case the suspect says they beat him,” Justin said.
“OR you were just on Cops!!!” I yelled. “OMG, you were on Cops!”
Today at work I emailed Justin, “I can’t stop laughing about last night. And the thought of you being on Cops.”
He emailed me back, “They wouldn’t show me because I didn’t have a wife beater on. And shirtless isn’t classy unless you have trashy tattoos all over your body.”
Looking back, I wish I would have said, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby! I’ve got you some male strippers!”
But I still wonder what Frank did. And hope to God he never comes back to our place. At least I know we have an amazing guard dog, because Bandit slept in front of the door the rest of the night. So adorable, love my little fur son.
Happy Valentine’s Day everyone. Ours started out with a BANG! Literally.