...okay, seriously? I agree with Puck. -_-
Oh. My. Fucking. God. Guess who had a fun night last night? That'd be ME! My story, let me tell you it:
Okay, so my sweetheart is minding his folks' house while they're not in, and he invited Adrian and me over so he could cook us dinner. We get there around 6 p.m. Dinner is made and eaten. During this time, we're calling up our dear buddy xul_teiquin to make birthday plans with him (though nothing's settled yet), and xul_teiquin joins us shortly thereafter with his new girlfriend in tow. We have a lovely time chatting, watching TV/YouTube and playing with Adrian and Ryan's folks' dog Brinkley. Finally, around, oh, 9:15-ish, all the visitors leave, and Adrian and I get home at 9:30, give or take a couple minutes.
I haven't been home hardly five minutes when Ryan calls. Apparently, the neighbor across the street from his parents was informed by his twelve-year-old daughter who'd been out walking their dog that someone had hit her big sister's car (parked literally opposite Ryan's folks' driveway--it's a position where it would be VERY easy to smack into, especially backing out of that driveway) and sped off--and if someone didn't get in touch with him ASAP, he'd be calling the police to report a hit-and-run. I guess I was the one being accused of doing this, even though I didn't fucking TOUCH the car in question. Yes, I'm a bit rough on my car (there's a good-sized dent in the rear passenger door region where someone apparently hit it in the Cabela's parking lot while I was at work--I never did anything about it because a: it could have been quite literally ANYONE who did it and there were no witnesses and b: my insurance deductible is probably as much, if not more, than the repair costs would be whenever I do decide to fix the sucker), but this one wasn't my doing. Believe me, I'd have noticed. You'd think the "bang" and the jarring motion would've tipped me off. For that matter, I didn't see any pedestrians, with or without dogs, at the time I left Ryan's folks' place. Of course, it WAS dark, and I wasn't exactly looking for any, unless they happened to be in the street.
Well, Dad insists on coming, and he and I head over to talk to the guy making the accusation to find out what the heck's going on and see what sort of damage was done to the vehicle. It's maybe 10-ish when we get there. We ring his doorbell. No answer. We knock on the door. No answer. We call the phone number Ryan gave us to contact him. No answer. Dad ends up leaving a message, we knock a few more times... and eventually the guy comes out. Dad explains why we're there, and almost immediately, this guy starts getting in my dad's face, like less than two feet from him. The guy's not much taller than I am--maybe 5'5" or 5'6"?--while Dad is an inch or two shy of 6 feet, and supposedly this guy is a bodybuilder/fitness trainer/whatever. We take a look at the car, and, yes, right at the front driver's side wheelwell, there's about a foot-long scrape, and also some black marks above it. It's a RED car, and the scrape looks whitish, aside from the black stuff on it. I drive a gold Grand Am with NO black stuff that can rub off on anything else, particularly not THAT high up on another vehicle--and there's no red paint ANYWHERE on my car, let alone where it could possibly have come in contact with this car, and we show the guy this fact. He ain't happy about that. XD But, he accuses us of calling his twelve-year-old a liar and keeps saying "I just want someone to take responsibility!" We offered him all our insurance information, and he refused it. Dad offered to involve the police (remember, the guy had threatened to call them in the first place before we ever got there), and he refused. Somewhere in here, I get the rather dubious compliment of the guy saying "Your daughter's, what, sixteen? Seventeen?" when I'm about six weeks from my 25th birthday. Finally, he says "You're setting a REAL good example!" and heads back into his house, claiming "I've got the license number--I'll be here if you want to do anything about it!"--although before much longer, you can see the lights in his house being turned off. Riiiiight.
Well, Dad, of course, is ticked off, and he calls the guy's bluff. We call the police to let them know what happened as well as our insurance office. It's now around 10:30-ish. Dad's calling the guy a "popinjay" with "small-man syndrome" and theorizing that the car was damaged elsewhere at another time but the guy happened to see me over there at Ryan's folks and figured I'd be an easy target to blame and intimidate into paying for it or some such. During this time, Ryan calls his parents to inform THEM what's going on, just in case, and we learn that apparently this guy and his family have been asses ever since they moved into the neighborhood. Great.
Eventually, a couple officers show up, and we explain what happened. They examine both cars and agree that there's virtually no chance my car could have done the damage. They head over to talk to the guy and the daughter who allegedly witnessed all this. We are informed later that the guy refused to let them talk to her at all, even though she's the only one who apparently saw or heard anything according to what he says. He also refuses to make any charges for a hit-and-run.
Well, finally, the officer tells us that they're filing the whole shebang as a "disturbance," since nothing else is being filed, takes our information just in case, gives us the case number for reference and calls it a night. Yeah... Okie day, then. Dad figures the guy probably just wanted an excuse to blow steam and yell at someone and decided to pick on Ryan and/or me to do it. Whatever. Anywho, Dad and I finally get home around 11-ish, and that's that.
So that was my interesting night. As Puck says, "Lord, what fools these mortals be."
...in happier news, I did finally acquire the Latin book I wanted today, so that's good. ^_^v
Okay, so my sweetheart is minding his folks' house while they're not in, and he invited Adrian and me over so he could cook us dinner. We get there around 6 p.m. Dinner is made and eaten. During this time, we're calling up our dear buddy xul_teiquin to make birthday plans with him (though nothing's settled yet), and xul_teiquin joins us shortly thereafter with his new girlfriend in tow. We have a lovely time chatting, watching TV/YouTube and playing with Adrian and Ryan's folks' dog Brinkley. Finally, around, oh, 9:15-ish, all the visitors leave, and Adrian and I get home at 9:30, give or take a couple minutes.
I haven't been home hardly five minutes when Ryan calls. Apparently, the neighbor across the street from his parents was informed by his twelve-year-old daughter who'd been out walking their dog that someone had hit her big sister's car (parked literally opposite Ryan's folks' driveway--it's a position where it would be VERY easy to smack into, especially backing out of that driveway) and sped off--and if someone didn't get in touch with him ASAP, he'd be calling the police to report a hit-and-run. I guess I was the one being accused of doing this, even though I didn't fucking TOUCH the car in question. Yes, I'm a bit rough on my car (there's a good-sized dent in the rear passenger door region where someone apparently hit it in the Cabela's parking lot while I was at work--I never did anything about it because a: it could have been quite literally ANYONE who did it and there were no witnesses and b: my insurance deductible is probably as much, if not more, than the repair costs would be whenever I do decide to fix the sucker), but this one wasn't my doing. Believe me, I'd have noticed. You'd think the "bang" and the jarring motion would've tipped me off. For that matter, I didn't see any pedestrians, with or without dogs, at the time I left Ryan's folks' place. Of course, it WAS dark, and I wasn't exactly looking for any, unless they happened to be in the street.
Well, Dad insists on coming, and he and I head over to talk to the guy making the accusation to find out what the heck's going on and see what sort of damage was done to the vehicle. It's maybe 10-ish when we get there. We ring his doorbell. No answer. We knock on the door. No answer. We call the phone number Ryan gave us to contact him. No answer. Dad ends up leaving a message, we knock a few more times... and eventually the guy comes out. Dad explains why we're there, and almost immediately, this guy starts getting in my dad's face, like less than two feet from him. The guy's not much taller than I am--maybe 5'5" or 5'6"?--while Dad is an inch or two shy of 6 feet, and supposedly this guy is a bodybuilder/fitness trainer/whatever. We take a look at the car, and, yes, right at the front driver's side wheelwell, there's about a foot-long scrape, and also some black marks above it. It's a RED car, and the scrape looks whitish, aside from the black stuff on it. I drive a gold Grand Am with NO black stuff that can rub off on anything else, particularly not THAT high up on another vehicle--and there's no red paint ANYWHERE on my car, let alone where it could possibly have come in contact with this car, and we show the guy this fact. He ain't happy about that. XD But, he accuses us of calling his twelve-year-old a liar and keeps saying "I just want someone to take responsibility!" We offered him all our insurance information, and he refused it. Dad offered to involve the police (remember, the guy had threatened to call them in the first place before we ever got there), and he refused. Somewhere in here, I get the rather dubious compliment of the guy saying "Your daughter's, what, sixteen? Seventeen?" when I'm about six weeks from my 25th birthday. Finally, he says "You're setting a REAL good example!" and heads back into his house, claiming "I've got the license number--I'll be here if you want to do anything about it!"--although before much longer, you can see the lights in his house being turned off. Riiiiight.
Well, Dad, of course, is ticked off, and he calls the guy's bluff. We call the police to let them know what happened as well as our insurance office. It's now around 10:30-ish. Dad's calling the guy a "popinjay" with "small-man syndrome" and theorizing that the car was damaged elsewhere at another time but the guy happened to see me over there at Ryan's folks and figured I'd be an easy target to blame and intimidate into paying for it or some such. During this time, Ryan calls his parents to inform THEM what's going on, just in case, and we learn that apparently this guy and his family have been asses ever since they moved into the neighborhood. Great.
Eventually, a couple officers show up, and we explain what happened. They examine both cars and agree that there's virtually no chance my car could have done the damage. They head over to talk to the guy and the daughter who allegedly witnessed all this. We are informed later that the guy refused to let them talk to her at all, even though she's the only one who apparently saw or heard anything according to what he says. He also refuses to make any charges for a hit-and-run.
Well, finally, the officer tells us that they're filing the whole shebang as a "disturbance," since nothing else is being filed, takes our information just in case, gives us the case number for reference and calls it a night. Yeah... Okie day, then. Dad figures the guy probably just wanted an excuse to blow steam and yell at someone and decided to pick on Ryan and/or me to do it. Whatever. Anywho, Dad and I finally get home around 11-ish, and that's that.
So that was my interesting night. As Puck says, "Lord, what fools these mortals be."
...in happier news, I did finally acquire the Latin book I wanted today, so that's good. ^_^v