I woke up and heard the screaming. The banging. Smelled the smoke, like burned plastic. Right there, 10 feet away from my bedroom, was the dope house next door, going up in flames. What a glorious sight.

I put on my shoes, went outside and turned on the hose, started hosing my own roof down. I could still hear the sounds of people inside the burning house, hysterical, angry, violent screams, pretty much the same as any other Wednesday afternoon.

It was looking to be a beautiful day. Those first few nice days of spring have always been my favorite time of year, though as I get older I’ve come to appreciate the last few nice days of summer almost as much.

I’m sure somebody has called the fire department by now.

I do hate to be a looky-loo, but it’s such a nice day, why not sit out on the front porch and enjoy it?

Ooh, here comes the fire trucks! Three of ‘em. As the firemen unrolled their hoses, and suited up on the sidewalk out front, I politely tell one of them “You guys are about a half hour early, aren’t ya?” He chuckled, but said nothing, and headed up the roof, where he proceeded to chop a big hole in it with his ax.

There were seven people inside, the last two to come out were wet and shirtless, still skirmishing, Timmy screaming, “That ոigger assaulted me when I was trying to put the fire out!” over and over again. “I was trying to pull you out of there, you fuckin’ idiot!”

By now, all the neighbors were out in the street:

“Fuck that house!”

“Let the motherfucker burn!“

People, not just from this block, but the next one over, were all standing in front of the smoking, wet shit pile that was once a halfway decent house, and introduced themselves to one another, became a community for one brief moment, drawn together by their mutual cowardice, and together savored a victory that wasn’t really theirs. The soft, pale, weak ones never stood out in the street to make such brave proclamations before today, and yet, they showed such warrior spirit AFTER the castle was burning.

The news link above pretty much gives away my home address. I am only adding the link to verify that I’m not just making shit up and posting it here, and also as a visual accompaniment to anyone interested. That’s Timmy in the cuffs. He was released four hours later.

The Complete Catalog by Lynn Lockhart