Last night started out like any other night.  I went to bed after talking to Caitlin for a while.  I had a little bit of trouble falling asleep somehow, and around 2am I’m in the half-sleep, half-wake stage.  The reason I know that I was at this point at 2am is because I was startled awake by a dude on a megaphone, and I happened to look down at my alarm clock at the time.

I’m pretty startled, and all I catch of what he was saying is “this is the police, come out with your hands up.”  I’m immediately excited, and then kind of confused, followed by absolute terror, which was quickly followed by bemusement.  I’m thinking to myself after this flood of emotion:

“This is awesome!!!”

“I’ve never experienced anything like this before, some neighbor is getting busted!”  After the dude had finished that first sentence that I only caught a portion of, he started on a second.  It went something to the effect of:

“Rob Muriel, this is the police, we have come for your anus.  Your anus is ours.  Come out with your hands up immediately.”

Now, for those of you who don’t know, Rob Muriel is my roommate.  The one who lives across from me.  Not Matt, who lives on the other end of the apartment, facing the other street, not the one I’m facing.  Rob’s room is facing the same street that my room is, and it’s the same street the dude with the megaphone is on.  After hearing him say Rob’s name, I realized that this isn’t awesome at all, in fact, it’s a prank, and really inconsiderate.  I think to myself “What the fuck?” and start getting out of bed.

I’m wearing some pajama pants, and am shirtless as I walk to my window to crack the shades.  I want to know who this is.  Who this is who has so rudely awoken me.  Good thing I don’t have to be up early for anything, otherwise I would have been quite upset.

As I’m parting the blinds I hear a third sentence claiming again that the man with the megaphone has ownership of the private sector of Rob’s glute.  I’m not wearing my glasses, so all I see outside is a big, black or dark blue van with white, skwiggly writing on the side that reminded me of a florist’s van.  They’re parked in the middle of the street, at the corner of Purdue and Tulane.  Still shouting for Rob to come outside, I open the window, and cup my hands around my mouth and shout:

“You motherfuckers!  Other people live here!”

To which they speedily drove off saying “Eh, uh, thanks, asshole” and did the siren sound some megaphones make.  Good comeback, I think to myself.  Gladly they drove off, cause for some reason I was prepared, even considering my current attire, to go outside and beat the shit out of anyone and everyone glassesless, because I didn’t want them broken.  That would be difficult, and maybe impossible; I’d be fighting blurs.  Blind rage I guess.

The next day Rob sends me a text in the morning around 9am asking that I would call him when I woke up.  Around 10:30am I call him, and he says “I’m so glad you called right now, I wanted to ask you what happened last night.”

Apparently Rob was dreaming when the first shout rang out, he said it appeared in his dream, he thinks, but it woke him up.  He got up around the time I did and went to the window, looked out, and then heard me shout, and heard there tart, immature reply, and saw them speed off.  After which, he went back to bed.  He asked my side of the story because he wasn’t sure if his experience actually happened or if he was, to quote word for word, “just tripping balls.”  I reassured him that there are no balls to trip over.

After I got back into bed after shouting at the dudes in the van, I laughed aloud three separate times about how I responded, and then fell asleep.