So, I might’ve seen someone get killed on Tuesday.
I took the day off from work so I could go to Mini-Me’s school field day, where he ROCKED the Balloon-popping competition and the Spongebob Relay race, thank you very much…..
Anyway, for dinner I thought it would be nice if we all went out to one of our favorite local restaurants to celebrate his complete awesomeness.
Friz was driving (because, let’s face it, I am WAY too fucking cool to be caught behind the wheel of the mini-van. If I’M driving, it’s the convertible or nothing). Anyway, as we were driving, I noticed some kind of commotion on the street, waaaaaay up ahead of us.
It kinda looked like two guys dancing.
You don’t really see too many men spontaneously getting jiggy in my neighborhood. Hell, that’s probably true in most neighborhoods, unless you live in the town of Glee. Or a bath house.
Regardless, as we drove closer, it became apparent that these dudes were NOT in fact dancing….
They were fighting.
They both looked to be in their 30’s/40’s, and there was a third guy, sitting on a bike, just watching them go at it.
Friz looked at me and said, “Oh my God, is that for real?”
“Looks pretty real to me.”
At that point I looked at Mini-Me, and he was clearly spooked by the whole thing. It doesn’t take a lot to pull him away from his happy place, and watching 2 guys punch each other in the face seemed to have done the trick.
While we were discussing if it was real or not, I saw the bigger guy knock the smaller one to the street, and start to unleash a flurry of haymakers to the dude.
On his last punch, the guy on the ground, who had been trying to get up, really got his lights knocked out. He looked like a marionette that just had his strings cut. He went limp, and crashed onto the curb, his arms splayed out over his head, into the street.
Friz cried, “Oh my Goodness! Is he dead?”
“I dunno. Pull over.”
“Pull over. I’ll go see what’s what”
“I am NOT pulling over this car!”
“Relax. I’m not gonna start swinging at anybody. I’ll just see if the dude is ok.”
At that point, my son hit Defcon 0 in the fear department, and started crying and yelling for me to stay in the car.
So I had Friz yelling at me in one ear, and Mini-Me yelling in the other, and I’m yelling for SOMEONE to just pull over the frigging car.
A nice family moment.
Anyway, Friz refused to pull over, and called 911 from her cell phone.
We continued on to the restaurant. At this point, my son was now consumed by fear with the assertion that since my wife called the police, “the killer would know that we called and would come after mommy”. No matter what I told him to assuage his fears, he was trembling with surety that mommy was a goner.
A relaxing family meal indeed.
On the way home, there was a police car in the street where the fight had occurred. This was over an hour later, so my hopes that the unconscious dude had just come to and walked away probably didn’t happen.
Anyway, my son was so freaked that he demanded he sleep with us, although, from my point of view, if the killer WAS in fact coming to exact his revenge on us for tattling, if it was ME I’d want to sleep in the backyard rather than NEXT TO the intended target. I don’t feel that he really thought that through very well.
At any rate, it’s been 2 days now and I have yet to see someone looking like Robert De Niro standing outside my house yelling “Counselor, counselor! Come out, come out wherever you are!”, so I think it’s safe to say that I’m probably not on anyone’s Revenge List.