It is 1:10 in the morning. I've been away from the store for a whole 25 minutes. FOX soccer channel has nothing, HBO  nothing, vast wasteland of nothing on the boob tube, and the monotone of the drone gives that familiar heavier than normal feeling in the eyelids.  Just go to sleep and dream something neat, maybe something about Hawaii.

4:00 in the morning there is a wind blowing the table outside or something crunching. The dreams weren't happening because my Id was waking the ego telling it to stir, listen, and live. Outside the sounds of someone on my deck trying to open my back door. I open the blinds to confirm my paranoid delusions of  being part of some gang kidnapping, being brought to the store told to open the safe and killed on the spot after the last digit done and the bolts open. However we're in Maineville, Ohio. The same town that hosts a populace that wouldn't steal the cubic zirconia set deliberately on top of the cross case in the front of the store for more than three weeks. It's not a Columbian gang, but there is someone on my back porch. This is the point where I thank Porter for his gift to me, the one that's bigger and more dangerous than the smaller pistol my dad gave me to protect myself with while I was alone in the country.  Out of the closet , clip in. Out of the bedroom heading down the stairs, slide back bullet in the chamber. Into the den, safety off, lights on porch, on. I've heard footsteps away from my house and run barefoot onto the icy snow. The sound of the steps sounded off that the person was headed to my neighbors house. Courtney is on the phone with the cops and relays the info I've discoverd.  I get my shoes on and go around to the side of my house to shoot me some robber of Santy Clause.  I find the footsteps in the snow, the composition is clear not blown or melted like old ones. I feel like Elmer Fudd. I hear an alarm go off  and it sounds like it's about 100 yards away. I run into the house to tell Courtney, who tells 5o.  Johnny Law blows through the the neighborhood towards the sound with no lights on at all, running dark. 30 seconds later another cop car approaches from another direction cruising slow using the halogen spot. He stops when he sees me, asks me if this is my house, then informs me they're bringing in a dog. With the mention of bringing a dog to be the better Elmer Fudd I'm thinking I can go back to sleep. Adrenaline doesn't let me. Nor do the flashlights and the armada of cops walking in circles before I show them the tracks to follow.

Today in the shop a cop came in to have his ring fixed. He wanted to know if hitting someone in the jaw with it would have been the cause for the stone to fall out.  After the gaggle of go-get the bad guys guys  in my yard last night  letting the Professional Elmer Fudd sniff Maggie and Jacks poo I'm thinking that discussing Newtonian laws of physics might be a bit above him because of  the blank look he gave me after the words "hitting jaw." 

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