It was a lovely day yesterday. Welcome rains peppered down on my dry garden and all was well in my world.
I had just checked out Greg Isles’ latest and best novel “True Evil” which I read until sleep overcame me. I immediately entered my dream world where everything was peaceful and calm.
What happened next was a true nightmare. At 2:15 a.m. my reverie was interrupted by an insistent rap on my front door. I chose to ignore it at first, thinking someone was up to no good. Lucky and Rebel barked viciously and I thought the intruders would just go away.
My bedroom is just off my front parlor and I suddenly saw a high beam of light circling the premises. It came to rest on my mother’s portrait, then aimed toward my door.
The rap became a bang, bang, and I thought I heard someone say “Open Up.” I rolled out of bed and peered around the corner until I could see who was standing on my front porch. Oh my gosh, was this a S.W.A.T. team storming my porch?
I saw the badges before I processed the men wearing them. Not one, not two, but three officers were on my front porch, their squad cars lighting up the night with their rotating globes – did I see guns? Maybe. But I don’t think they were drawn.
In the time it took me to span the 14 steps to the door, I imagined all sorts of possibilities: Something had happened to my children or my parents; An ax murderer had just climbed into my window; or they finally found out that I had stolen a pack of gum from Big Star when I was four.
Okay, so this is a pretty lame April Foot spoof, but the cops did come to my house on three occasions because someone had called 911. I’m guessing there is a mischievous little man living in the attic. I had to cancel my land line to get it to stop.