In da Ghetto...
40 Minutes ago I called the cops because some jackass was blaring his fucking stereo. Bass is so loud it's fucking keeping Jenny awake.
The cops haven't come. I go to look at what the situation is.
There's a little white Chevy with rust on the back that must be 90% speaker.
I get in my car and go up to the store.
When I come back the hillbilly neighbor's I have are out there talking to him. "I'm tryin to get this guy outta here, he's my friend" says the guy. Meanwhile this asshole is tearing up the grass in his car.
"HEY MAN!" the guy in the car says to me... "HEY! WASSUP?!".
"Hey..." I just kinda mutter under my breath. "You mind turning that shit down."
"It not that lowd." He said "Ey man' my name's ron, all these udda niggas out here are scared of me man!"
"I don't care who's scared of you, and I'm not trying to start shit with you. Just please turn your shit down. I'm asking you as a guy."
"Awwrite man, I'm out!"
10 minutes later the asshole is back, blaring his shit again...
It's now 50 minutes after the cops got called. They still haven't come.
You'd think the allure of writing a drunk driving ticket woulda got them here... No such luck.
Here's an portion of my conversation with Flint's finest...
"Yeah, I called 40 minute's ago about a guy blaring his stereo on Valley Drive in Rollingwood Manor"
"What's your address sir?"
"He's at 2505 or close to it, my address is right by there."
"What's your address sir?"
"I'm at (my address)"
"What is your name sir?"
"Chris Wilson, why do you need to know my name to come catch a guy who's drunk driving all over the property's lawn and playing Music at 110 Db's ? It's not like he'd be hard to find."
"ok sir."
"Would you like to talk to the police sir?"
"No, I'd like them to come and do their job."
"Ok sir, they'll be there shortly..."
It's now 1:57... 57 minutes after I called them. Tim Hortons and 7-11's must be getting held up or something, can't fuck with donut suppliers...
The cops haven't come. I go to look at what the situation is.
There's a little white Chevy with rust on the back that must be 90% speaker.
I get in my car and go up to the store.
When I come back the hillbilly neighbor's I have are out there talking to him. "I'm tryin to get this guy outta here, he's my friend" says the guy. Meanwhile this asshole is tearing up the grass in his car.
"HEY MAN!" the guy in the car says to me... "HEY! WASSUP?!".
"Hey..." I just kinda mutter under my breath. "You mind turning that shit down."
"It not that lowd." He said "Ey man' my name's ron, all these udda niggas out here are scared of me man!"
"I don't care who's scared of you, and I'm not trying to start shit with you. Just please turn your shit down. I'm asking you as a guy."
"Awwrite man, I'm out!"
10 minutes later the asshole is back, blaring his shit again...
It's now 50 minutes after the cops got called. They still haven't come.
You'd think the allure of writing a drunk driving ticket woulda got them here... No such luck.
Here's an portion of my conversation with Flint's finest...
"Yeah, I called 40 minute's ago about a guy blaring his stereo on Valley Drive in Rollingwood Manor"
"What's your address sir?"
"He's at 2505 or close to it, my address is right by there."
"What's your address sir?"
"I'm at (my address)"
"What is your name sir?"
"Chris Wilson, why do you need to know my name to come catch a guy who's drunk driving all over the property's lawn and playing Music at 110 Db's ? It's not like he'd be hard to find."
"ok sir."
"Would you like to talk to the police sir?"
"No, I'd like them to come and do their job."
"Ok sir, they'll be there shortly..."
It's now 1:57... 57 minutes after I called them. Tim Hortons and 7-11's must be getting held up or something, can't fuck with donut suppliers...