Hot Chocolate

Here’s how my wife and I spent a Sunday morning back in 2003.

I'm up for some reason around 6AM. I hear a car pull into a driveway, hoping it isn't my driveway, but pretty sure it is my driveway since the car sounds close. When I hear a car door open up I'm even more sure it's my driveway, but I have no idea in hell why someone would be showing up at my place.

All hope that the car is in a neighbor's driveway goes away I hear someone banging on my front door. I now know something is way out of whack because we never use that door, and none of our friends ever go to that door. 

My heart drops another notch when I hear the horn being honked repeatedly in my driveway. Looking out my bedroom window, which overlooks the driveway, I see a shitty old Toyota (Camry I think, though it might be a Cressida), broken grill, missing a hubcap & a loud exhaust that sounds like a broken pipe. The passenger side door is open, I can tell the driver is still in the shadows of the car so I figure there are at least two people involved in this foolishness.

Great, I've got to deal with two total freaks at 6:11 AM on what had been a quiet Sunday in the 'burbs.

I yell down, “I'll be there in a second, just please stop honking.”

I throw on the shorts I'd worn the night before, clip my paddle-back holstered pistol on to my waist band, and head down stairs.

I go to the side door, open the door, and trying to not be too loud I ask whomever is at the front door to come around to the side door. I hear a woman react with a curse, then the other screen door slams closed, then she comes around the corner.

Picture this: woman, 5' 7" or so, boobs near hanging out of her trashy blouse, black leather pants, ridiculously large hoop earrings, blue lipstick & at least 3 inch heels. Loud in voice and appearance.

Clearly I have a hooker and her driver in my yard, a fact that I'm quite sure all my neighbors now know.

I stand facing the door with my left side, my right hand being on the grip of my gun, on which I've now released the holster's retention detent.

I ask her what could she possible want at my house & suggest that she is in the wrong place.

She asks me if "Lee" is here.

I say no, there is no "Lee" here, you've got the wrong house, and I really think you should leave.

She then starts to argue with me that she has the right house, then proceeds to pull a piece of paper out of her purse with my address, “Lee's” phone number, and about 50 words or so of other text on it that I didn’t have time to read.

I tell her that, “Yes, that is my address on your piece of paper, but there’s no ‘Lee’ here, that’s not my phone number, and you have to leave right now.”

She then tells me that she needs to call the number on the note to figure out where she should be, tells me she doesn't have a cell phone, then she asks if she can use my phone, even reaching to open the screen door I'd been talking to her through. She continues telling me how I have to help her sort this out.

The thought runs through my head that this might wind up with me having a dead whore in my entryway.

I cut her off mid-rant, repeat my demand that she get back in the car and leave, tell her how to get to the closest pay phone and tell her again she has to leave.

This goes around a few more times as she tries to convince me to let her in & use the phone as I tell her to get the hell off my property.

Finally she gives in and gets back in the car. It starts up with a bark, likely waking the neighborhood again with its noisy exhaust. They back out of my driveway and head off towards the pay phone I told them about.

Needless to say I'm a little freaked out about this whole affair. Someone, either accidentally or maliciously, sent some incompetent assistant crack-whore on an outcall to my house at 6:00 AM on a Sunday.

I hang out downstairs for a while to make sure they’re gone, then I go upstairs to fill the wife in on the details she may have missed listening in from an upstairs window. I’m pretty wired by the whole event, figuring it will be hours before I fall back asleep.

About ten or fifteen minutes after they left, I went downstairs to get a drink. To my surprise and dismay I saw that the shitty Toyota is sitting down the street a bit from my house, idling, clearly contemplating pulling into my driveway again.

As it turns to pull into the driveway I dial 911. The wife yells down to tell me that she's calling the cops but I tell her “Too late.”

One of the nice things about the town we live in is its damn near total absence of crime, so much so that when you call in a suspicious persons report you get a near immediate two car response. Took less than two minutes for two cruisers to show up. The cops parked so that they blocked the shit-box in my driveway, then they get out & start questioning the hooker and her driver.

Here's the highlights of what I could overhear: * She'd been at a "party" earlier that morning and a "friend" told her she should "meet" "Lee" and "date" him, giving her the address and phone number. She said all this in, I think, truly believing that the cops accepted her story at face value, not for a second thinking that she was describing criminal actions. * When first asked to provide ID the hooker balked. * They claimed to have gone and used a payphone, called "Lee". They further claimed that "Lee" told them that they had the right address & that he was simply "around back". * The hooker repeatedly asked the cop "Why would someone lie to me & give me the wrong address?" I swear she was convinced that her John was hiding somewhere behind my house. * Once they finally got ID from the hooker, the only thing she could produce was her welfare card, her driver's license having being suspended. * The guy driving her had an expired license, but only recently so. * They said they were looking for someone in a town about ten miles from where we live. * At some point, after the cops told her and her driver they had "10 seconds" to leave our town or they'd both be arrested for trespassing and breach of peace (for the third time they were told this), I actually heard the hooker, in all seriousness, ask one of the cops,"Can I have a dollar so I can buy a hot chocolate at the Dunkin Donuts?"


This lead to another minute or so of dialogue, the cop being incredulous that this whore hasn't taken his charitable offer of leaving town quickly to avoid arrest pitted against her desire for hot chocolate. Eventually she caves in, the cops move their cars to make room for them to leave. They leave & I'm happy to report that I've never seen them again.

(The reason I could overhear all of this from 50 feet away was because she spoke pretty loudly & it was damn quiet (except for her, the car & the car's horn) that morning. Once or twice she tried to engage me directly in conversation, never apologizing but in some vain attempt that I could explain why this was all happening to her.)