Okay.... This is a great story. but I've told the story so many times that it's become as stale as flat club soda to me.
Ted, my ex, recently typed it out for her boyfriend to read. It tickles me to hear the story from another point of view.
I love how she refers to my hair-cut as a "hair-cut" with quotes areound it and all...
Enjoy =)
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This is probably one of the funniest stories I know, certainly of any that has happened to me, but I think its better with a little background information.
The first part of the background info needed is that Free drives an Acura Integra- so hes very popular with car thieves. We had so, so many problems over the years with that car. It was just constantly being messed with, and it was stolen outright a few times.
The other part of the background is that Free has been taking martial arts for about 10 years now, serious martial arts, like the kind where they really are teaching you how to kill someone if need be. Nothing about inner peace or being one with the world or anything- just basic violence, but also how to be responsible with it.
Within the style is a huge variation of different types of other martial arts and such, many of which include things likes knives, rattan sticks and swords. Not fencing swords, though theyve used those too I believe, but blade swords, long and wide and really, really sharp. The kinds that have superstitions attached to them about not being able to take it out if its sheath without giving it blood.
So, for a few years (at this point) Free had begun to collect some of these- the few he had at that point were antique Filipino swords, about 18 inches longs by 3 to 4 inches wide. (And being antique, had actually been used in battle, which always creeped me out a bit.) Another part of the training is learning to posture, to swear and scream and yell at the person youre fighting, since if youre not used to that it can really throw you off emotionally, or if youre lucky you can throw off someone else. Of course it also involves the physical posturing- which Ive always thought looks just like puffing up like a rooster or something.
And this is the actual story:
This happened 6 years ago, in the summer, when Free and I were up most of the night since it was too hot to do anything during the day. Just like now. Free was in a very punk looking phase at that point, not that he ever hasnt been, but he had bright blue hair and a haircut (which of course was my doing) with most of his head shaved except the top, almost like a really wide mohawk. When he woke up he looked a lot like a blue haired troll doll.
So one night, Friday or Saturday, at about 2 or 3 am, hes playing on the computer, and Im taking a bath, and the car alarm goes off. From the bath I can hear him swearing and fumbling around in the office saying, wheres my fucking swords? or something like that. I of course am no help, as I lurk in my watery lair. So I finally hear him run out the door, and Im not too sure I want him to have actually found his sword, but he had, and out he goes. And just after he gets out the door I hear another car take off. So Free comes back in, turns off the alarm, and tells me how he got out there only in time to see someone jump into a car and take off. Too dark to see anything about the car or the people in it. So, close call.
Two weeks later, again on Friday or Saturday night, same time same place, the alarm goes off again. This time Free is in the bath and Im in the office on the computer. Now I can hear him fly out of the tub and the splash of water all over the sides as he does so, and then he comes running out of the bathroom soaking wet and pulling on his underwear. I, the dutiful wife, am now standing in the office door with my arm out with his sword. Very much like a 50s wife holding out her husbands coat as he leaves for the office. Have a nice day dear turns into Go kill someone sweetie.
But of course its the same thing- too late to catch them or even really see them. So again, close call but its getting really annoying.
And so the very next week, this time at 4 or 5 Saturday night, at which point were both in bed but Free's not asleep, the fucking alarm goes off again. Free, in only his boxers, flies out of bed and out of the house. The sword at this point had taken up residence next to the front door. And we have now shaved a few minutes off our response time, so this now something may actually happen.
After about a minute, the alarm stops. But no sign of Free. I get out of bed and stand in the dark kitchen, and I cant hear anything. Another minute or 2 go by, a let me tell you that those 2 or 3 minutes felt a whole fucking lot longer. At this point Im scared, and getting really, really scared, and thinking I need to call the police. I still cant hear anything and Im terrified to go outside to see whats happening. And Im a little afraid of calling the police as well, considering the circumstances. And finally, Free comes back in, shaking, but laughing. And this is what had happened.
Free gets out of the house just as a car is pulling away. Because its so late there is actually just enough light for him to see that the car is a small pickup truck, and that there is a guy crouched in the back. Free thinks that he will at least try to put the fear of god into them this time, so he pulls the sword out of the sheath and starts chasing them down the street. Barefoot. Wearing only his boxers. Blue troll doll hair all over the place. Waving a fucking sword around and yelling that hes going to kill them, blah blah blah. And then break lights. And then the truck stops. And Free stops. And he stands in the street, puffed up as big as he can be, arms out, sword in one hand, sheath in the other. Posturing as huge as he possibly can and thinking oh my fucking god what do I do now? And he stares at the guy in the back of the truck, who he can see but he cant quite see his _expression. But the guy in the truck is obviously staring straight back at him. So, they just stare at each other for a few seconds. And then, of all the fucking things, the guy in the truck says, quite panicky its just the paper!
Yes, Free had just chased the paperboy down the street almost naked and with a sword shouting about how he was going to kill him. The paper was never anywhere near the car again.
Ted, my ex, recently typed it out for her boyfriend to read. It tickles me to hear the story from another point of view.
I love how she refers to my hair-cut as a "hair-cut" with quotes areound it and all...
Enjoy =)
-----------
This is probably one of the funniest stories I know, certainly of any that has happened to me, but I think its better with a little background information.
The first part of the background info needed is that Free drives an Acura Integra- so hes very popular with car thieves. We had so, so many problems over the years with that car. It was just constantly being messed with, and it was stolen outright a few times.
The other part of the background is that Free has been taking martial arts for about 10 years now, serious martial arts, like the kind where they really are teaching you how to kill someone if need be. Nothing about inner peace or being one with the world or anything- just basic violence, but also how to be responsible with it.
Within the style is a huge variation of different types of other martial arts and such, many of which include things likes knives, rattan sticks and swords. Not fencing swords, though theyve used those too I believe, but blade swords, long and wide and really, really sharp. The kinds that have superstitions attached to them about not being able to take it out if its sheath without giving it blood.
So, for a few years (at this point) Free had begun to collect some of these- the few he had at that point were antique Filipino swords, about 18 inches longs by 3 to 4 inches wide. (And being antique, had actually been used in battle, which always creeped me out a bit.) Another part of the training is learning to posture, to swear and scream and yell at the person youre fighting, since if youre not used to that it can really throw you off emotionally, or if youre lucky you can throw off someone else. Of course it also involves the physical posturing- which Ive always thought looks just like puffing up like a rooster or something.
And this is the actual story:
This happened 6 years ago, in the summer, when Free and I were up most of the night since it was too hot to do anything during the day. Just like now. Free was in a very punk looking phase at that point, not that he ever hasnt been, but he had bright blue hair and a haircut (which of course was my doing) with most of his head shaved except the top, almost like a really wide mohawk. When he woke up he looked a lot like a blue haired troll doll.
So one night, Friday or Saturday, at about 2 or 3 am, hes playing on the computer, and Im taking a bath, and the car alarm goes off. From the bath I can hear him swearing and fumbling around in the office saying, wheres my fucking swords? or something like that. I of course am no help, as I lurk in my watery lair. So I finally hear him run out the door, and Im not too sure I want him to have actually found his sword, but he had, and out he goes. And just after he gets out the door I hear another car take off. So Free comes back in, turns off the alarm, and tells me how he got out there only in time to see someone jump into a car and take off. Too dark to see anything about the car or the people in it. So, close call.
Two weeks later, again on Friday or Saturday night, same time same place, the alarm goes off again. This time Free is in the bath and Im in the office on the computer. Now I can hear him fly out of the tub and the splash of water all over the sides as he does so, and then he comes running out of the bathroom soaking wet and pulling on his underwear. I, the dutiful wife, am now standing in the office door with my arm out with his sword. Very much like a 50s wife holding out her husbands coat as he leaves for the office. Have a nice day dear turns into Go kill someone sweetie.
But of course its the same thing- too late to catch them or even really see them. So again, close call but its getting really annoying.
And so the very next week, this time at 4 or 5 Saturday night, at which point were both in bed but Free's not asleep, the fucking alarm goes off again. Free, in only his boxers, flies out of bed and out of the house. The sword at this point had taken up residence next to the front door. And we have now shaved a few minutes off our response time, so this now something may actually happen.
After about a minute, the alarm stops. But no sign of Free. I get out of bed and stand in the dark kitchen, and I cant hear anything. Another minute or 2 go by, a let me tell you that those 2 or 3 minutes felt a whole fucking lot longer. At this point Im scared, and getting really, really scared, and thinking I need to call the police. I still cant hear anything and Im terrified to go outside to see whats happening. And Im a little afraid of calling the police as well, considering the circumstances. And finally, Free comes back in, shaking, but laughing. And this is what had happened.
Free gets out of the house just as a car is pulling away. Because its so late there is actually just enough light for him to see that the car is a small pickup truck, and that there is a guy crouched in the back. Free thinks that he will at least try to put the fear of god into them this time, so he pulls the sword out of the sheath and starts chasing them down the street. Barefoot. Wearing only his boxers. Blue troll doll hair all over the place. Waving a fucking sword around and yelling that hes going to kill them, blah blah blah. And then break lights. And then the truck stops. And Free stops. And he stands in the street, puffed up as big as he can be, arms out, sword in one hand, sheath in the other. Posturing as huge as he possibly can and thinking oh my fucking god what do I do now? And he stares at the guy in the back of the truck, who he can see but he cant quite see his _expression. But the guy in the truck is obviously staring straight back at him. So, they just stare at each other for a few seconds. And then, of all the fucking things, the guy in the truck says, quite panicky its just the paper!
Yes, Free had just chased the paperboy down the street almost naked and with a sword shouting about how he was going to kill him. The paper was never anywhere near the car again.