Hurty hurty.

So, due to a bunch of family stuff I might get into at a later date, after a very frantic Wednesday I got home and colapsed on the couch around 23:30. By 00:00 I was in bed with the electric blanket on trying to get some sleep.

Around 00:50 I awoke. I don’t remember why.

I opened my eyes and looked straight ahead through a window that looked out to the next door neighbours fence – there was a silhouette of a person there.

I closed my eyes again until it registered. The outline of a young bloke walked past my window.

Then another.
Before I knew it I’d flown out of bed (luckily Iwas dressed) and slammed open the front door while simultaneously hitting the lightswitch.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” I heard one of them loudly whisper to the other as they both flew through my front yard, jumping my modest fence in an effort to return to their white stationwagon.

I don’t remember if I went down the drive or jumped the fence, too.

All I remember is desperately trying to see the back of their car to get the plate before they got to the car.

Unfortunately, as I stepped off the curb onto the road, I tripped on my own toe and slammed into the road. Before I had a chance to look up I heard their tyres struggle for traction and they were gone.

I went back inside where I’d woken up both the girlfriend and my mum (who was staying the night as she was having car troubles and working nearby).

I grabbed a torch and went round the side of the house to check out what they were up to. I originally thought vandalism, as I couldn’t see any reason why they were where they were past my window, in somewhat of a dead end at the side of the house.

My bedroom window

The window I  spied them through is on the right. As  you can see, other than the gas mains and the fuse box, there’s not much down there. That’s not even a gate behind the fern – just a fence.

I returned inside again and begun to notice how much my foot was hurting and how much my hand was bleeding.  I answered the questions from Mum and Lenore about what was going on and decided I’d call 000.

I called 000 and spoke to the D24 lady (is that even what it’s still called?). She asked for a description of the two guys and the car and so on, I don’t think I was very helpful.

They sounded white, young, Australian. I think they were driving a white VX or VY Commodore stationwagon.

One of them might’ve been wearing a white T-shirt and I think both of them had short hair (in that modern I-almost-have-a-mo-hawk-but-cut-my-hair-weekly kind of way). I challenge anyone else to sleep for around 50 minutes then sprint for 40 metres then fall then recall details of what happened. I will try to pay more attention in future though.

Anyway, she asked if I wanted someone to respond and I declined. I was just calling to do the responsible-citizen thing. I hungup the phone, walked past the front door, switched off the outside light and walked into the Kitchen. I chatted to Lenore about the evening’s events for a moment and got a beer out of the fridge. Before I even had a chance to open it I could hear the crackle of radios at the door. “That could be the cops already” I said to Lenore. A spoken “knock knock” came from the other side of the door.

They were two young cop-looking-blokes in big heavy vests. They talked to me for a while and I gave them the same useless information I gave 000. One of them went around the side of the house with me and started peeking behind things and in amongst the grass and ferns – He told me there was an armed robbery only minutes earlier in the area – this explained the quick response time and the vests – there were at least 10 cars in the areas according to him. He reckoned they’d pulled over across the road and come into my yard to try to get rid of their evidence.

The other cop asked me if I rented – turns out his sister used to live in our house about eight years ago!

Small world.

They left and I’ve heard nothing further of the whole situation. I have, however, been suffering from my injuries since. Thursday I’d already semi-planned to have off due to some comittments but I ended up having to stay home today just because I’m so inefficent at walking. I’m starting to learn not to use my little finger on my right hand just yet, too.

Ouchies photos after the jump.  Don’t go further if you’re eating.

My banged up legs

Photo 80.jpg


Ouchies 😦


2 Responses to “Hurty hurty.”

  1. Awww you poor old soldier. Why were you ‘dressed’ in bed? (I agree it was prolly a good thing). And the hair do you described, we disaffectionately call the ‘fin’! A hair do for dickwads. You were lucky they didn’t shoot you! *hug*

  2. You poor dumb bastard. Time to hassle the landlord for motion-activated lights, a bigger fence and half-a-dozen highly-trained attack dogs.

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