Saturday, January 17th, 2004
I’m inside my house, a large two-story suburban home. I grab a bow and some arrows and head out to shoot at some warring factions across the highway. As I make my way out the back door and onto the grass, I see two high school aged boys walking towards the house carrying assault rifles. They remind of me the Columbine shooters or the shooters from the movie “Elephant.” They approach me calmly, almost in a friendly manner and ask for my money. I pull a few wads of bills from my left pocket and hand it to them. They tell me casually that they’re going to come in and rob the house. I let them.
My mind is racing with ideas of how to escape them. I tell them, “Listen, my brother and sister are in the house, can I at least tell them you’re here so they aren’t startled?” They say yes and I run upstairs, leaving them to slowly prowl the main floor. I run through the huge house and into a bedroom where a teenage girl is sleeping. I shake her awake and hold her mouth shut. I whisper to her, “There are two guys robbing the place right now. Get on the phone and call the police but stay very quiet, ok?” She (reminds me of Katie Holmes or Sarah Polley) nods and I leave the room, remembering to turn off the light so as not to attract the robbers.
I am now her as I sneak quietly around the second floor. The layout is very open, with lots of corridors and rooms, almost like a hotel or a museum with many exposures where I can look down onto the first floor. I see them walking casually around. I try to stay ahead of them, keeping them in my sight.
I notice one of them making his way up the stairs. I run into a bathroom and squeeze myself through the wide but narrow window. Once outside, I cling to the wall outside and slow make my way across a narrow ledge and onto the ground outside.
I run towards the road, waving hysterically trying to flag down a ride. A few cars whiz by me before one car finally stops. It’s a young family of four, all of whom have weird hairstyles and hair colors – a gentle punk rock look. I get in and tell them that my house is being robbed. They are sympathetic as they start driving me away from the house. I tell them I think my boyfriend’s in on it. I tell them to drive to a populated place (though the streets are busy with people) like the Rite Aid down the road and call the police.
I’m inside my house, a large two-story suburban home. I grab a bow and some arrows and head out to shoot at some warring factions across the highway. As I make my way out the back door and onto the grass, I see two high school aged boys walking towards the house carrying assault rifles. They remind of me the Columbine shooters or the shooters from the movie “Elephant.” They approach me calmly, almost in a friendly manner and ask for my money. I pull a few wads of bills from my left pocket and hand it to them. They tell me casually that they’re going to come in and rob the house. I let them.
My mind is racing with ideas of how to escape them. I tell them, “Listen, my brother and sister are in the house, can I at least tell them you’re here so they aren’t startled?” They say yes and I run upstairs, leaving them to slowly prowl the main floor. I run through the huge house and into a bedroom where a teenage girl is sleeping. I shake her awake and hold her mouth shut. I whisper to her, “There are two guys robbing the place right now. Get on the phone and call the police but stay very quiet, ok?” She (reminds me of Katie Holmes or Sarah Polley) nods and I leave the room, remembering to turn off the light so as not to attract the robbers.
I am now her as I sneak quietly around the second floor. The layout is very open, with lots of corridors and rooms, almost like a hotel or a museum with many exposures where I can look down onto the first floor. I see them walking casually around. I try to stay ahead of them, keeping them in my sight.
I notice one of them making his way up the stairs. I run into a bathroom and squeeze myself through the wide but narrow window. Once outside, I cling to the wall outside and slow make my way across a narrow ledge and onto the ground outside.
I run towards the road, waving hysterically trying to flag down a ride. A few cars whiz by me before one car finally stops. It’s a young family of four, all of whom have weird hairstyles and hair colors – a gentle punk rock look. I get in and tell them that my house is being robbed. They are sympathetic as they start driving me away from the house. I tell them I think my boyfriend’s in on it. I tell them to drive to a populated place (though the streets are busy with people) like the Rite Aid down the road and call the police.
posted by Dan at 9:44 AM
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