Recently had two young guys move into the other half of the duplex we rent. The older one is adorable in a Johnny Rotten, very tattooed kinda way, (he's a stylist and straight) and the younger reminds me of a lost puppy. They are both good kids, but last night, "Puppy" drank too much and ran his mouth to the wrong thug.
About 3 am, I got a call from another neighbor up the hill, asking what was going on. Thanks to the genius of noise-cancelling headphones, I was clueless and chose to remain that way and go back to sleep.
This morning, there were 4 police cars and a crime scene van out front. The longer they were there, the more concerned I got. "Johnny" was standing outside, so I broke down and asked what happened. He hadn't even been home when it all went down, but the apartment is in his name. "Puppy" got has ass royally kicked. X-Box stolen, windows destroyed, blood on the front porch. Wasn't a pretty sight. His back is pretty messed up, and he's sporting one helluva shiner, but no broken bones.
Chalk it up to young and dumb. I just hope he learned something. He's a good kid, just getting his own life experiences.
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