By Marian Brennen Pratt
It was one of those hot sticky summer nights when even the mosquitos were not interested. I had just wandered out to the pool, threw a leg over the side and fell in. – aahhhhhhhhhhh. I came up for air and heard a sickening crash in front of our house. I ran in and the men of the house were already out by the road. They yelled: “Call 911“. While I was doing that, I was trying to dry myself off. The phone was slipping and sliding in my hand and I was tracking water all over.
Deciding to go outside and see what had happened, I ran around our huge barberry bushes, so I could see the road. When I noticed that my sons were out on the road directing traffic, I was compelled to tell them to be careful, but I had to run back to the other side of the bush, so they would hear me. Turning suddenly, I came within a foot of crashing into this Herman Munster kind of guy who was coming toward me holding his hands out dripping with blood. His hair was standing up all over mixed with clumps of grass. His shirt was ripped. When my heart started beating again, I said “Sit down here, the ambulance is coming.” He turned and ran. I could hear some guys up on the road saying that there was one man in the car who said his buddy was missing. I stumbled around those foolish bushes again and told them that he was just here but had run off. Then finally I got off a few shots at those two traffic directors to be careful. I was sure they listened to their momma.
Next, I turned my attention next door to my dad’s house and it was all lit up. I knew he would have the screendoor unlocked and I didn‘t want this bloody guy to show up at his door. I ran in and called dad on the phone telling him what was going on. As I was talking, I looked down and saw what looked like drops of blood on my kitchen floor-just…like…drops…of… blood. I could not breathe.
He’s in the house. I said to my dad “I’ll call you back” and I threw the phone on the floor. I ran back outside, and the police were here. When I yelled “He’s in the house”, they headed up the driveway. I was glad to see them. All that time I was warning my dad to lock his screen doors, this guy crawled through a window in the back of my own house. Later, I asked my dad what he thought when I hung up the phone so suddenly and he said, “I was awaiting further orders.”
Turns out seeing a few drops of blood was the least of my worries. It seems that the two were teenagers and had been drinking and this one was trying to clean himself up, so his dad would not be mad that he wrecked the car. In the meantime, my entire bathroom was red. Red swipes on the mirrors. Red dripping down the front of the cabinets. His biggest “What was I thinking” moment was trying to wipe up the light blue carpeting with my big white towels. We bleached the towels more than once, but those white fibers would not fully let go of that color. Why not throw them away? Oh, I don’t know, the kids called them the “burglar towels” for years and that always got a laugh.
“Yeah, Ma, don’t let them bloody guys get into Gramps house.”
“You guys out there directing traffic, be careful now.” (delivered in a falsetto voice.)
Never heard her holler so loud when the cops got here:
“HEY, HE’S IN HERE. HE‘S IN MY HOUSE”. (more falsetto)).
“Oh stop, I wasn’t that loud.” It’s always good for a family to remember the exciting times of life especially when it’s not your own kids causing the excitement. The drinker guy recovered, although I don’t know how; since he had left half the blood in his body in my bathroom.
