Taking A Bite Out Of Crime

When we moved to our new house, we were elated that our neighbors were such wonderful people. Older people, who've lived here most of their adult lives and who welcomed us with open arms. The girls have inadvertently gained 3 new sets of grandparents. But there was one house that they pointed out as being the "suspicious" house, on the street adjacent to ours. Apparently the owner gave this house to her scum bag son, who's gotten himself arrested twice and has reportedly been selling drugs out of the garage, (So says Art, our 75 year old neighborhood watch leader who spends his days voluntarily keeping watch on our street).

So Saturday morning started like any old weekend. I left the kids with Wes to go to the gym, only when I walk out of the house, I noticed a Honda Civic sitting in front of our yard and three shady looking people hanging out on the curb. Mind you, it's 7 am. Nobody without kids gets up at 7 am voluntarily. Nobody in their late teens/early 20's, anyway. So I smile, get into the car, drive away and call Wes to let him know about the suspicious activity out front. He responds in typical male fashion, and basically ignores his obviously neurotic and bored, desperate housewife. Fine. No biggie, I'll just call the authorities. I let the operator know that they weren't actually doing anything, but that I didn't like them in front of my house. Being that it was a slow Saturday morning in Santa Clarita, she said they'd send someone right over.

(Wow, this story is getting long. It's almost over, I promise. It'll get really exciting right about now.)

So after the gym I drive home. No car in front. No sheriff in front. Nothin'. So I figure it was a false alarm. But an hour later when I walk out on to my porch, there are 6 squad cars, a guy in the back of a squad car, and the "drug house" is being swarmed by police while the residents are sitting on the porch looking like guilty, low-life, scum. Turns out, the car parked in front of my house was stolen, along with two other cars in the neighborhood. Who knows what was found in the house. I didn't want to ask and let on that I had called the police.

There's no reward, in case you were wondering. At least, I haven't been contacted about one. I was sort of expecting a pat on the back, maybe a certificate of sorts, or being named an honorary deputy for the day, but I guess they don't do that type of thing. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing that someone out there is driving around town again in their previously stolen vehicle, all because of me. Hmph.

Bad boys, bad boys. What cha ganna do?......