I find that I have to share this story with everyone. It's 100% true, though I would not have believed it had I not been there for it. There are questions I have now that burn in my mind, and will burn there for the rest of my days.
Standard Pre-amble:
A little background info you need... my house has a front fence, a smaller fence near the patio, 4 steps leading up to the patio, and a large 2-pane, tempered safety glass, sliding front door.
Last wednesday morning I was sitting in my pc room reading my newspaper (as I do every day before heading to work) when I heard a god-awful commotion in the street out the front of my house. I could hear a bloke screeching and cursing at the top of his lungs, using language that would make a dock-worker blush. This is not entirely uncommon where I live (it's a pretty bad suburb surrounded by even worse suburbs), but being a nosy bastard I decided to wander out to the front and have a squizz through the doors to see what was going on (something bound to bring the cops, I hoped, like another assault or street domestic). What I saw, instead, was, well, a midget. In a wheelchair. Out in the middle of the road, by himself, screeching up a storm and hurling abuse at seemingly everything.
Now a better description of the dude is needed. Take a huge football (soccer, to the americans) hooligan head, stick it on the body of one of the fetuses that Christopher Reeves drinks from in that old South Park episode, and then strap it into a wheelchair that looks like a doll's pram painted black. I can't give a more vivid description than that. Actually, if'n anyone has any photoshop skill, a composite would be awesome, please.
Bear with me, that's not the weird part.
In fact, upon spying the little dude, all I could say is "well, gonna be another lovely day in ". I shrugged and went back to my paper. About 6, maybe 7 mins later this incredibly loud banging starts on my front door. I head back to see what's going on and lo & behold, there's the midget, still in his wheelchair, brutally attacking my front door with his head. I can't stress enough in text how hard he was slamming his head into my door. It was shaking my house, if that helps. I don't know how, but he was attacking my door with the same ferocity that a cleric clubs skeletons, still screaming and screeching like a possessed toy.
It took me a minute to process the situation, and to come up with a couple of options. The first of these was to kick him off the patio. I dismissed it as an idea seeing as the little freak had somehow gotten himself up the stairs onto the patio in the first place, and I didn't want to end up on tv for kicking a crippled midget, even if he was a psycho.
So I called the police. It took me a couple of minutes to explain the situation, and then a couple more minutes to convince the cop I wasn't drugged out or hallucinating. Overall, I was on the phone to the cops for 11mins 38seconds, and for all that time the midget kept attacking my door. Over and over and over and over. At the 9 minute mark (of the phone call), the psychotic little mutant freak actually broke my door. He broke tempered safety glass with his forehead. He put a goddamned hole about 3cm wide into and spider-webbed the rest of a pane of tempered safety glass. Can I stress again that I had TEMPERED SAFETY GLASS doors? The kind of stuff you can hit with a 20lb sledge or blast close range with a 12guage shotgun? Yeah, that stuff. This mutant midget put a hole in it. However, that didn't stop him. If anything, it made him more determined to achieve his goal (what that was, I have no fucking idea, maybe he was like a pigeon and had to attack his reflection?), and the attack increased in ferocity.
I ended the phone call when the squad car pulled up in my driveway. The officers bounded out of their car, up my stairs, grabbed the midget by the wheels and lifted him. Once he realised he was off the ground, the lunatic shifted his attacks, swinging himself violently from side to side trying to headbutt the officers. So they turned him on his back, carried him over to the car and *flung* him, head first, into the back seat. After slamming the door, the cops have gotten a few steps towards my patio and have collapsed with laughter. So now I'm standing on my patio, looking between the broken glass, the freak in the back of the cop car, the steps up to the patio, the 2 cops dying of laughter in my front yard and back to the glass. When the cops finally composed themselves and got back to where I was standing, the only thing I could ask them was "How the FUCK did he get up the stairs?????"
Now I'm still haunted by questions... where the hell did the little freak come from, who the fucking hell left him in the middle of the street, why the hell did the fucker attack my glass doors, and how, HOW THE IN THE NAME OF ALL HOLY FUCKERY DID HE GET UP THE FUCKING STAIRS??????????????????????
Standard Pre-amble:
I use some rather foul and definitely politically incorrect language in this story. If that's going to offend you, or upset your delicate sensibilities, or if'n you're thinking of giving me a lecture on "appropriate terms" afterwards, click back or close now.
A little background info you need... my house has a front fence, a smaller fence near the patio, 4 steps leading up to the patio, and a large 2-pane, tempered safety glass, sliding front door.
Last wednesday morning I was sitting in my pc room reading my newspaper (as I do every day before heading to work) when I heard a god-awful commotion in the street out the front of my house. I could hear a bloke screeching and cursing at the top of his lungs, using language that would make a dock-worker blush. This is not entirely uncommon where I live (it's a pretty bad suburb surrounded by even worse suburbs), but being a nosy bastard I decided to wander out to the front and have a squizz through the doors to see what was going on (something bound to bring the cops, I hoped, like another assault or street domestic). What I saw, instead, was, well, a midget. In a wheelchair. Out in the middle of the road, by himself, screeching up a storm and hurling abuse at seemingly everything.
Now a better description of the dude is needed. Take a huge football (soccer, to the americans) hooligan head, stick it on the body of one of the fetuses that Christopher Reeves drinks from in that old South Park episode, and then strap it into a wheelchair that looks like a doll's pram painted black. I can't give a more vivid description than that. Actually, if'n anyone has any photoshop skill, a composite would be awesome, please.
Bear with me, that's not the weird part.
In fact, upon spying the little dude, all I could say is "well, gonna be another lovely day in ". I shrugged and went back to my paper. About 6, maybe 7 mins later this incredibly loud banging starts on my front door. I head back to see what's going on and lo & behold, there's the midget, still in his wheelchair, brutally attacking my front door with his head. I can't stress enough in text how hard he was slamming his head into my door. It was shaking my house, if that helps. I don't know how, but he was attacking my door with the same ferocity that a cleric clubs skeletons, still screaming and screeching like a possessed toy.
It took me a minute to process the situation, and to come up with a couple of options. The first of these was to kick him off the patio. I dismissed it as an idea seeing as the little freak had somehow gotten himself up the stairs onto the patio in the first place, and I didn't want to end up on tv for kicking a crippled midget, even if he was a psycho.
So I called the police. It took me a couple of minutes to explain the situation, and then a couple more minutes to convince the cop I wasn't drugged out or hallucinating. Overall, I was on the phone to the cops for 11mins 38seconds, and for all that time the midget kept attacking my door. Over and over and over and over. At the 9 minute mark (of the phone call), the psychotic little mutant freak actually broke my door. He broke tempered safety glass with his forehead. He put a goddamned hole about 3cm wide into and spider-webbed the rest of a pane of tempered safety glass. Can I stress again that I had TEMPERED SAFETY GLASS doors? The kind of stuff you can hit with a 20lb sledge or blast close range with a 12guage shotgun? Yeah, that stuff. This mutant midget put a hole in it. However, that didn't stop him. If anything, it made him more determined to achieve his goal (what that was, I have no fucking idea, maybe he was like a pigeon and had to attack his reflection?), and the attack increased in ferocity.
I ended the phone call when the squad car pulled up in my driveway. The officers bounded out of their car, up my stairs, grabbed the midget by the wheels and lifted him. Once he realised he was off the ground, the lunatic shifted his attacks, swinging himself violently from side to side trying to headbutt the officers. So they turned him on his back, carried him over to the car and *flung* him, head first, into the back seat. After slamming the door, the cops have gotten a few steps towards my patio and have collapsed with laughter. So now I'm standing on my patio, looking between the broken glass, the freak in the back of the cop car, the steps up to the patio, the 2 cops dying of laughter in my front yard and back to the glass. When the cops finally composed themselves and got back to where I was standing, the only thing I could ask them was "How the FUCK did he get up the stairs?????"
Now I'm still haunted by questions... where the hell did the little freak come from, who the fucking hell left him in the middle of the street, why the hell did the fucker attack my glass doors, and how, HOW THE IN THE NAME OF ALL HOLY FUCKERY DID HE GET UP THE FUCKING STAIRS??????????????????????
