If that dude is waiting for someone who went into the store, well, she ain’t comin’ back, buddy. She ain’t comin’ back.
P.S.: Stan and I are going to see Layer Cake tonight, from the makers of Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels. I understand that the F bomb is dropped from inscalable heights. I weep with excitement.
Well, we only saw like 20 or so out front, but there was most likely another force of equal size on the other side of the block across the street. There were k9 units and dudes with glorious moustaches. I went out to see if I could figure out what was going on, but when you hear a dozen cops rack their shotguns simultaneously you tend to go back inside and peek. Thusly, I missed the big rush where they swarmed through the backyards across the street. I heard two bangs, the neighbors heard three. After a while, the police just strolled back to their cars and drove away. I did manage to ask one what happened and she said:
They had to pick up a guy, and they wanted some help.
To which I responded:
Did I hear… gunshots?
She then said (equally helpfully):
Probably flash grenades. I was in the back.
A bunch of the neighbors and I walked around the block to see what we could figure out. (We met three new sets of neighbors in the process.) When we got around the block to the house where the fuzz had been, we met a nice old lady who rambled on about the guy who had come around for food a couple of weeks ago (and never left?) and her daughter, whom she thought was calling when the po po called, because her daughter was due to have her baby in the next three weeks. Then she rambled about her future new granddaughter, her own health problems, and whatever else Ms. Social Worker Lisa could pry out of her.
At least it was a nice night for a S.W.A.T. raid. Totally awesome. I saw Colin Farrell and Samuel L. Jackson in the mass of silent police officers somewhere. Cocky bastards! Their unorthodox methods won’t fly in this by-the-book captain’s station!
Uh, sorry about that. Now do I watch Sideways or Futurama?
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