The Flying Pumpkin

Last week I bought a Pumpkin. I spent 5 minutes picking out the best one. That's half the fun, of course. It sat in the living room for a few days looking pretty, and I had every intention to carve it. This pumpkin won't live to see receive that luxury.
At our new apartment, the back deck overlooks the community pool. It's pretty cool, but there's a certain temptation that comes along with it. We're pretty sure we could climb on the roof and jump in, but nobody wants to break their legs to try it I guess. One night, I'm sitting in the living room trying to resist the urge to throw the pumkin into the pool. Ryan is with me, and I know that if I tell him what I'm thinking, that it's inevitable the pumpkin will see it's watery fate. Finally, I couldn't take it any more. Besides, what could it hurt. Pumkins float. We could just go down and get it after we throw it. As I take the pumpkin out on the back deck, I realize that it's a little heavier than I remember, and the pool is a little further away than last time I checked. I mustered up all my might and launched the pumpkin into the cold dark night. Time stopped. I realized the pumpkin was descending way to fast. It Crashed to the poolside exploding into three large pieces. Seeds went everywhere with it's guts spilled on the concrete. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! How could this be? You weren't supposed to die. This was supposed to be fun. We never got to carve you!
We ran outside to see if we could at least clean it up. The pool gate was locked already with no way to get in. As we stood there trying to decide what to do, we looked up only to see that our neighbors had watched the whole thing.
No eviction notice yet.

Stickman

It takes one to know one.

About three months ago, my brother and friend Ryan were bored at the old apartment and had just downed a box of wine(classy right?). We had cheese sticks and ritz crackers too. We discovered that in the huge apartment complex we lived in, the dumpsters out back were like gold. They were filled with shiny wonders and new toys. We found bikes and road signs, furniture and even old eggs to throw at stuff. This particular night we rode our kids bikes out back and found the screens to a huge projector TV. Ryan was the first to pick it up only to discover that it made his head look huge. We all took turns making stupid faces at each other with huge heads and little boddies. This fun lasted about a half hour. We're fairly easily entertained. The second piece of this TV was a brittle plastic sheet that shattered with even the smallest hit. After we took turns breaking this into as many pieces as possible, we went back to making stupid faces with the other projector screen. A few minutes went by and something started to smell like bacon, but we didn't think much of it. Sure enough, the neighbor called the cops on us. As we stood there in the middle of the mess we just made all over the parking lot, the cops stepped out of the car and asked for ID from all of us. They proceeded to ask questions and get a feel for the situation to see just how much dammage we had done. They scoped out the area, checking out all of the broken tv's and other garbage laying around. We got accused for all kinds of things we didn't do. Eventually they told us to pick up all the broken pieces as they stood there and watched. By the way, our grumpy neighbor stood there with her arms crossed the whole time to make it worse. It took a total of 15 seconds to clean up our mess that we planned on picking up anyway. Now, here's the part that gets me. I understand that we were being little hooligans, but the cops couln't figure out which ID's belonged to who. There were only three of us. How hard could it be. He handed me the pile of ID's and told me to give them to Kenny and Ryan. How can you have the authority to arrest people, but not even have the brains to match a picture ID with the people standing in front of you? I figure that it takes an idiot to know one. Also, the two cop cars were parked with the light flashing in our neighbors windows at midnight. They didn't even have the common decency to turn their lights off while they talked to us. I guess I'm just tired of talking to the cops for little things like this. We can barely go a month without talking to Police for riding bikes or skateboards or digging in the trash. It's a sick sick world.

P.S We got our eviction notice on our front door the next morning:)

Stickman