I'm pretty new here, and this topic is about as far off topic as possible, but I feel like I must share as I bask in the glow of gloriously sweet vindication...
I'll preface this story by saying that through my childhood, I was always on the borderline, treading the line between being the good kid and the hellion. I've been TPing, I've set fireworks out in front of a house before, I've ding dong ditched. But even as a stupid kid, I understood moderation. For the most part, I was a respectful kid.
Fast forward 15 years. I've got a six month old boy, a wife, dog, and nice quiet house in the suburbs - of Columbus. Three months ago, my quiet little slice of Americana was violated by what I had assumed to be a preadolescent douchebag kid. That's right, I was the innocent target of a rash of ding dong ditches. Two or three times a week, multiple times a night. Hardcore shit. Karma you say? No, I've shoveled enough shit since my dumb years that I've worked off that debt.
So tonight, I caught the little SOB. I've thrown drunk idiots out of bars since I was 21, I've heard every word in the book come out of the mouth of some cockface who didn't agree with being cut off. The utter feeling of justice that I felt after chasing this kid down felt better than all of them put together.
About 30 minutes ago, the doorbell rang for the second time of the night. I've tried chasing the kid out the front before, nearly caught him twice. Usually, I just let it happen and stay put. Tonight, I decided to dash out the back door and hop the fence. Sure enough, the little prick was running through the neighbors back yard.
So I bolt towards the fence, it's four foot tall. I hurdle it in one stride - almost. Okay, maybe not even almost. I bit it over the fence. I'm 30 pounds heavier than my juco playing weight. I tore up my knee on the top of the fence, snapped a piece in half, and tumbled face first into the ground. But I still know how to fall. I tucked a shoulder and rolled out, unphased. The kid flew out the neighbors gate and into the front yard. I gained on him with every stride, each twice the size of his gimpy little child legs.
He still had a solid lead on me when I turned the corner, barefoot sprinting through the front yards of my neighbors. Denard F'ing Robinson couldn't have outrun me, with pure rage coursing through my veins. I think that it's the closest I will ever feel to a lion chasing his prey. Prey that just pissed on his territory.
He had no chance. None. He turned the corner into his yard with me mere feet behind, leading me to a trampoline with about 5 other 12-14 year olds. He hopped up there. They looked at me like a crazy man, they were probably only half wrong. I'll spare the details of the confrontation, but these kids learned new words to bring back to 9th grade next year. They were among the same I had learned from the drunk guys being cut off at my bar.
In synopsis, I called the cops for the first time ever. The officer was cool about it, I just let him know that I had an infant that woke up each time, and even though I used to do stupid stuff as a kid, I wanted these kids to shit themselves. I also told him I'd buy him a beer next time he came in to the bar off duty. He went back there, stirred up shit, and called it a night. I came back here feeling like Sherlock Holmes mixed with Frank Mir. And then I realized that while they would celebrate by clubbing down their enemies with midget strippers, I was back here posting on a blog. I guess the family life has calmed me down.
PS - the only thing I think that started this is I've been putting a patio in my yard, each day decked out in Michigan gear. Little prick bastard Buckeye.