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Last night was a five police car night.

I'll say this for my faux punk neighbors -- they are good for providing hours of drama and entertainment. Of course, it looks like that time is now drawing to an end. I am both happy and sad, with the majority of my feelings going toward the extremely and gleefully happy that my beauty sleep will no longer be interrupted by faux punk boy's idiotic girlfriend.

Craig and I decided to catch an early show of The Ring last night. We got home around 9pm and as we approach the house there are just about 80 people milling around the street between my house and the house of faux punk. I raised my eyebrows and looked at Craig. Craig got a silly grin on his face.

We parked the car and walked to our house, wondering just what the hell was transpiring that could have drawn such a crowd. There's some old, grizzled, drunk guy in an Eagles jersey laying on the ground yelling obscenities. Faux punk boy Clayton and his bevy of faux punk friends are in a heated argument with what seems like the entire crowd from the bar next to my house. The owner and family of the house of faux punk is barring the entrance of the house, locking the belongings of faux punk boy inside and telling them to beat it.

Right.

Craig, being the nosy old woman that he is, immediately sets out to find out the dirt. Five minutes later five police cars show up and Craig breathlessly flies into the house and tells me the story.

Around 8pm the house of faux punk was in a full swing huge part-ay when some smacked ass kicks out the windows of the third floor, sending broken glass cascading onto the sidewalk below. It also hit the old drunk guy in the Eagles jersey. His bellowing summoned his minions from the bar, who formed an old time Fishtown posse who then kicked the shit out of several friends of faux punk boy. This went on until some of the sober neighbors arrived on the scene to break things up, and also called the owner of the house. Which leads us to the present scene I was witnessing outside my door.

I ask you -- does it really get any weirder than this?

After an additional hour of cops taking statements, taking complaints, arguments with the owner of the house and the faux punks, and this drunk guy in the Eagles jersey falling down drunk in the middle of the street and pissing himself, things quiet down. Until 5am, of course,

5am comes around and Craig and I are awakened to the sounds of faux punk boy and friends of faux punk screaming at each other in front of the house. It seems the only person on the lease [rarely seen] has arrived home after a tough night of work only to learn that his friends and other roomie have screwed him royally.

Now it looks like only a matter of time before the house of faux punk is packed up and left empty again.

Ah, sweet beautiful peaceful sleep awaits me!

Posted by Nicole at October 26, 2002 08:14 AM | TrackBack