And here I thought he was just dealing pot...
Dude, you've got to figure out a way to get this guy out of the house. If those thugs start to suspect you guys warned him or are hiding him, situation could get real bad real fast.
I'd say call the cops but in the case of organized crime, if these guys are gangsters say, that could get you all killed in retaliation.
I believe the leader of the group has already been arrested. Not surprising, given that his entire head was covered in tattoos and he apparently tried to hijack a car down the road immediately after leaving our place. What a criminal mastermind, hey?
Yeah, I'm aware of the gravity of the situation. I'm finding it mostly just entertaining, though.
I think I've forgotten how to be properly scared of things.
Besides, only one of these guys was seen to have a gun. What kind of "gangsters" are they? I'm guessing at least one of them was some washed-up leftover from the big push my state's government made to eliminate biker gangs (which was pretty awful and heavy-handed to be honest) a while back, where all these supposedly tough-as-nails bikies rolled over without resistance and/or fled to other states.
Probably the worst part of this whole ordeal was being at the station to give my statement, along with four housemates.
I was the last one to be called on to give mine, after a long wait sitting in a boring little office at the station, and then the guy taking my statement was a two-finger typer with a seemingly rather weak grasp on the English language... no, I feel like I'm being too mean, here. But he was a really slow typer and it took a long damn time to give my statement.
Then again, I've never had to do anything like that before, so I'd have no idea what it's
supposed to be like.
Oh, and on the ride to the station (the cops offered to drive us there and back) myself and one other had to ride in a paddywagon. Like, in the
back of a paddywagon. I expressed doubts as to how often it was washed, and my companion exclaimed, "Never." However frequently washed the compartment was, judging by the stains the cleaners weren't terribly thorough.
On that note, I might go change my clothes... yecch.
Yoink, that is the most brilliant thing I've read in a while.
Thanks, I'm glad I'm not the only one finding this whole situation entertaining.
Another amusing point, that I pointed out during the interminable wait at the station under a pair of horrible fluorescent lights, was that the thugs actually walked up and rang the doorbell first. This is after they pulled up in a car and shouted before storming up the stairs to the front door. Honestly, that doorbell sounds pretty hilarious. I'm pretty sure it's half broken, and I was honestly surprised that it worked at all when I moved in.
If I wasn't already amused by the situation, with my housemates rushing about in a panic trying to decide on a course of action, this band of tooled-up ruffians announcing their arrival with this strangled-yet-cheerful "bip-BOK" sound would have pushed me over the edge.