Saturday, June 13, 2009

The Night The Missus Whipped Someones Ass For Me

I need to start this by saying that I married a lady. I mean, like a classic, LADY. She uses the F word sometimes, but for the most part, she could fit in in the 1800's. And I love her for that. You don't see it much anymore, and it's cool that I found someone like that.

Another thing I need to start this out with. I am a coward. Not in the sense that I wouldn't push a baby out of the way of a speeding truck. But in the sense of maybe run away if I see a possible confrontation happening 2 or 3 days down the road. This cowardness is subjective. Say, if I have seen a good Jet Li movie, or if I have some boys with me or if I've read a particularly heroic book, I am going to try to be a hero. However, the opposite is true as well. If I've seen scary movie or read a book where the hero dies, I will curl up under a rock for the next 6 months.

This story brings our anti hero and his lady to their bed at around 1:30 or so in the morning. I am a very heavy sleeper for the most part, and I didn't let anyone down on this particular night. We had a dog named Ludacris (yes, I know that's a ridiculous name for a dog) and he liked to bark when something was wrong, when something was right, or when something felt close to in between those two things. This dog would NOT shut up. Morning and night, he would bark bark bark.

Our housing situation was a trailer that faced east and west, with three other trailers that ran north south along our south wall. I still refuse to call this a trailer park, b/c trailer park infers a certain amount of white trashiness that I won't accept. I don't live there any more, so NOW it's a trailer park. Picture the trailers lined up as a giant M. Only without the lines coming together at the bottom. Now, for those of you who have never lived in a trailer, I will state one fact. The locks suck. Our back door could be opened even if it was locked, just by putting the right amount of pressure on the door. Not even a hard pressure. So naturally, I was constantly scared that someone was going to break in.

We didn't know our neighbors at that point, and we didn't really want to. We were just fine going about our lives without knowing the names of the white trash we were living next to.

Anyhow, back to our anti hero and his lady. Both in a state of sleep. As I am laying there dreaming about whatever fat fishermen dream about, I was awakened briefly by The Missus, and she said, "Travis, someone is knocking at the door." I promptly rolled back over and went to sleep. Again a tug. "TRAVIS. Someone is BANGING on the door!" This woke me up enough to hear that someone was in fact, banging on the door and screaming.

Two things happened. One, adrenaline shot through my body at once, causing me to be awake and instantly alert. Two, this adrenaline shot straight into my brain, and told it "OH MY GOD, WE HAVE TO RUN, WE HAVE TO FIND A WAY OUT OF THIS PLACE!"

Told you I was a coward.

I kept a fully loaded Stephens Savage 12 guage shotgun by my bed at all times. Call it overkill, I call it home defense. I don't have kids, so all you people who are saying that I'm a bad father, you just wait. I grabbed the shotgun and headed to the front door. As I got closer, I can make out that this is a man, and that he is yelling about my dog. So, doing what any man would do at that point, I leveled the shotgun at the door and screamed... "I have a gun, and I'll shoot you!" Yeah, scary, eh? This guy just keeps screamin and keeps screamin. At this point, I have no idea what to do. I have threatened to shoot this man, he should just go away, right? I was starting to think that I might have to open the door. Turns out, I didn't have to. The Missus did.

I can remember the disappoinment in her eyes as she turned to look at me, shaking, with a shotgun pointed at a door I hadn't opened yet. Those eyes seemed to say, "I'm going to borrow your nuts for a minute and deal with this." Then, before I could say anything in my cowardly defense, she RIPPED the door open, KICKED the screen door out, walked out on the porch, PICKED THE GUY UP, and THREW him off the porch and screamed "GET THE F*CK OFF OUT OF MY YARD!!!"

This guy had no idea what had happened, but I remember the look of surprise in his eyes as he picked himself up off the ground. I remember thinking the exact same thing he had to have been thinking. Wow. I do not want to mess with this woman. He ran out of the yard and back around to his trailer. RAN. Didn't say another word, and we wound up never hearing from them again. Matter of fact, I think they moved within a couple of weeks of the incident.

We called the cops, but for the most part, it was the most embarrassing police report I've ever had to give. The officer that showed up was a friend of mine, and he tried his hardest not to laugh, but I know that he did. The report is probably framed in his house somewhere, and he probably shows it off to his cop buddies anytime he gets the chance.

The gun is not loaded and by the bed anymore, and may never be again. After all, I married a LADY.