Knock Knock. Who's there? OH, shi.....

Trying to make a buck

This morning, rap rap rap was the sound emanating from my front door along with multiple buzzes of my door bell. The four of you that actually read my blahg that have been to my home tucked far away on the fringe of the industrial side of my neighborhood know that one does not simply walk into Mordor, or in this case my home. Nothing frightens me more (actually a lot of things frighten me more) than dressing for work and hearing the door bell ring out beaconing for me to answer it's call.

Meowssage

As the situation played out I froze like a deer in headlights, the equivalent of a pedestrian freezing in front of an approaching cyclist when they've stepped out of turn into the bike lane. My heart raced like that of a business man whose massage at an illegal massage parlor was just interrupted by cops as he was about to receive his ending, which in this case  not so happy. My first thoughts were that I forgot to pay a bill and they have come a collecting or maybe the person simply wrung the wrong bell as they attempted to reach my landlord who lives above (neither were the case as you'll soon find out).

Not actually me

Turning the television down so not to allude to my presence,
I crept ninja like to the window peering out between my venetian blinds to see who was rap rap rapping at my door. It was not the raven for ever more (not even close), but New York's finest, those boys in blue, the New York city police department. "Oh fu.....K, what did I do that I was not aware of?!!" ran through my feeble mind upon realizing who was attempting to meet me face to face. Seriously, I could not simply ignore this visitor. As I looked through the slates of my blinds I realized that they were roving from door to door (not unlike Christmas carolers by the way) down my street, slightly relieving the anxiety that coursed through my veins. They were not here for me.

As I opened the front door poking my head out like a baby chick breaking out of it's shell,
I was greeted by an officer. Apparently, they were executing a warrant on the girl who lives next door. As the world turns, I am told this girl missed a court date and was not to be found (last thing I want are cops executing a warrant on me). All this time I have been living next door to a prostitute who sells her body on the internet (world's oldest profession in a modern times). I had no knowledge of this girl's where about's  and so I took the cops number and went back into my lair to finish getting ready for work, and that was that.

Anyways, how was your morning?