I'm an intense, hyperactive woman with an imagination in overdrive who loves her Husby, her two Wonder Wieners, and her emerging career as an author and photographer.

Wednesday, January 10

The Drug Bust

Pretend that's a picture of a poppy, and I'm sitting in an opium den.

Okay. So. The drug bust. The dogs and I are sitting, minding our own business, on the couch. I'm reading a book. They're snuggling. Suddenly, but without noise, our living room is flooded with a blazing spotlight, even though the mini-blinds are drawn. Then, the red and blue lights start flashing. No sirens, no warning. I get up and open the front door; leaving the screen door closed. The bleary-eyed dogs wander over. I'm just in time to see a cop car, parked between the two trees on our front lawn, about four feet up over the curb. A cop is shoving a youth onto the hood of the car. The kid, a white kid dressed all in black with a knit cap and a jacket with some white logo on the back and those classy baggy-ass pants, says, "Hey, whad did I do? I didn'd do nuthin." I figure this is as good a time as any to butt out. I'm also thinking it would be really easy to shoot me through the flimsy screen door. I close the door and go back to sitting on the couch, my curiousity burning. Not long after this, a dog starts going nuts barking outside, which of course makes my dogs go nuts inside. I get them calmed down, but I gotta' know what's going down. So, I kneel on the dog's perch by the picture window, and do the classic nosy neighbor peeking out from the blinds thing. Not that it would be any harder to shoot me through the front window, but the situation is well in hand now. There's now a beautiful German Shepherd barking and straining at the end of a short lead at the command of two police officers, and two more police cars for a total of three cars and five officers, and a partially open grocery bag on the hood of the car. Outside of the bag on the hood are little baggies and wadded up bills. The kid's hands are now handcuffed behind his back and his jacket is further pulled down around his arms. I can't hear what he is saying, but I can see he's talking a mile a minute. He is not taking his opportunity to remain silent. The cops are all shaking their heads. The scene winds down. The two cops with the drug dog peel away out of my sight. One cop gets in his car and drives away. The other two cops chat a bit. They stick the kid in the back seat of the original bust car. The second cop wanders over to his car and drives away. The first cop takes the paper bag, looks in the bag, puts the stuff back in it, wads it up a bit, and puts it in the trunk. It didn't look to me like he had gloves on. I'm pretty sure, from watching CSI, that he should've had gloves on. Maybe not, maybe they want to prove he was part of the bust. Chain of evidence, you know. Anyway, he finally gets in his car and drives off. I settle back on the couch to read my vampire book. So ends another quiet evening in West Seattle.


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