It’s about 12 AM. I’m sitting on the couch watching cooking shows where people show me how to cook stuff that I’ll never try to cook, because if I did it would suck, and if it didn’t suck, I’d still be the only one to like it, so what’s the point. That’s when I hear tires screeching loudly nearby followed by a thud. “Someone just crashed” I said to myself. “I bet they crashed into my freakin’ wall”.
I go outside and there’s no visible damage to the wall, so I take a peak over, and sho nuff there’s a car parked with it’s front bumper pressed to my wall. The reason it didn’t bust through the wall is because the ground is a few feet lower on that side, so there’s a lot of earth bracing the lower portion of the wall, but there’s a decorative wall only a foot in front of that. It’s about 2 feet tall, and 6 feet wide, and it sits right under the sign that says Amber Ridge, the name of the neighborhood. Well that wall has seen it’s last days.
I ran out there to “see if everyone is OK”, but really to make sure they don’t try to get away with crushing the wall. I half expected it to be some retarded teenagers. Teenagers are infamous for their inability to avoid large, stationary objects. There weren’t any teens, just full growns. People were rattled, there were crying women, someone was making excuses, everyone was shook up. I got a license plate number.
There are only two ways to explain how someone could drive into a cinder block wall. 1) the person is drunk. 2) the person is a complete moron. My guess? That lady was wasted. She better fix that friggin’ wall.
