The first time I searched the room I missed him. Afterwards she came downstairs, full of herself, boasting to the others, "She must be blind. He was hiding behind the shower curtain and she didn't see him."
I'll admit to a certain level of blindness (or distractedness), I'll also admit to not wanting to discover a cranked up addict anyway. But she misjudged the others badly. Within moments Brig was in the office 'touting' on her. With heavy heart I headed back up the stairs. This would have been a good moment to phone the police but suppose Brig had got it wrong?
The moment I entered the room I knew he was there. My first clue was her dismayed face, the second his discarded size 10 trainers. Yet another good moment to phone the police but still I didn't for he might have been an easily dealt with wimp.
Not under the bed. Open the wardrobe door. BOO!
There he stood in his underwear, well built and as confident as a man in a wardrobe can be. I ordered him out. He swaggered across the room. He was very high. I threatened the police but he was unperturbed. "Sure the peelers know me anyway. Give me five minutes."
I left the room and phoned the police. They came and escorted him out of the building. She left with him. The police left. I hope the scary Wardrobe Man doesn't come back. The police are only five minutes away but five minutes is a long time.
6 comments:
See, that's why I'm quite glad that World is only a radio call away. 'cos the quite obviously high ones can be a little unpredictable.
Glad it turned out alright.
Ed
I wish I had the World to call on.
I see by your perfect spelling and grammar that you've gone easy on the birthday beer.
I only had a couple yesterday. Things to do today that a) require me to be sober this morning and b) allow me to get absolutely shitfaced later.
Midweek birthdays are difficult to celebrate properly.
I heard the Wardrobe Man got arrested afterards. His alleged crimes include
Assault
Public Drunkenness
Receiving a BJ on the street
The mind does boggle at that. I suppose his little paramour could call herself a street entertainer.
I hope they pay you well.
A) sounds fun
B) Sounds Dangerous
The pay is nothing special.
I used to think it was fun decanting their amorous swains out from wardrobes and under beds but I'm feeling rather mortal these days. It's not a job for a woman on her own.
But at least I've got an idea for this month's obligatory risk assessment.
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