Amateur Melodramatics

So last night was fun, to put it mildly. Shortly after finishing work and putting up the previous post I get an urgent phone call from a friend. She was absolutely panicked, since she had just had an argument with her ex-boyfriend and he had stormed off, swearing vengeance and that he would return. After barricading the door to her flat she had called me, expecting me to come and help. She is an old friend, if not the brightest bulb, in fact she barely registers as a candle, and I knew the boyfriend concerned. He was not an old friend, anything but, and I must admit that the opportunity to do anything that would foil revenge plans he might have was like sweet nectar in my mind.

Due to all of this I ended up not going home as I originally planned, but instead driving over a hundred miles northwards through traffic from hell, eventually arriving four hours after I left and leaving my car securely parked, after collecting a handy toy which my paranoia insists I keep close to hand in my vehicle. There are reasons for this paranoia, but let us just say that I have been the victim of road rage and leave it at that. Following this me and my little illegal toy made our way to her flat building, and inside.

I should clarify, the little illegal toy I am referring to is nothing serious. I do not keep a gun in the car, I do not even own one, though I do have a stab-proof vest which occasionally accompanies me to areas where I am not popular. The toy is essentially an extendable baton, titanium sheathing over a soft iron core extending from six inches in length to eighteen and weighing in at a comfortable four kilograms. It was bought legally, before the law changed, and personally I believe it is much more tasteful than if I were to start carrying a knife.

After some rapid deconstruction work on the barricade and reconstruction I settled in to help talk a now moronically drunk young girl out of the idea of doing something truly stupid. Her plan was to call on certain old friends of mine from the same area and encourage everyone to go looking for her rather despicable ex-boyfriend. My resolve wavered somewhat when she showed me the list of messages he had been sending to her mobile, the last one sent a few minutes previously. All were unpleasantly abusive, unpleasant in a way which turned my stomach, and became gradually more so as the barrage of communication had continued.

It was another several hours before anything actually happened. My guess is that the ex-boyfriend had been gathering his courage, with the help of certain legal substances and possibly illegal, and building up his rage before deciding to return. Return he did, and spent a good half an hour hammering on the door and cursing in drunken incoherence. Others in the block of flats later claimed to have called the police, but I have my doubts. Then again the area we were in is not known for its rapidly responsive police, mainly due to work volume, so I find it hard to fault them.

Eventually I tired of holding a sobbing girl and lost my temper. The ex-boyfriend seemed somewhat suprised when the sound of a barricade being removed from behind the door appeared, but must have only been startled for a moment as his hammering efforts redoubled. Sadly for him the door opens outwards, and I am of a fairly respectable weight. Not to mention that the door was of fairly heavy construction, good, solid wood. This he discovered when I opened it a crack prior to throwing my full weight against it. The door collided with his much smaller frame, and knocked him from his feet.

There is one particular reason that extendable batons are one of my favourite weapons. Despite the fact that they are relatively non-lethal, at least in comparison to a bladed weapon and when used with care, and not often used there is something intimidating about the 'zzt' sound of twelve inches of metal suddenly extending and clicking into place with a flick of the wrist. Threats were exchanged, various important points were made, and the ex-boyfriend left.

Afterwards we somehow ended up sitting outside in the rain for a while, with me attempting to persuade her that none of what had happened was her fault. I love the rain.

In the morning the police were called again, the council were informed that a certain girl would be needing to move shortly, and my family lawyer was called and put in touch with the lass in order to try and arrange civil proceedings, mainly a restraining order. I then, at last, finally returned to my homestead in order to bathe and relax.

Now, sleep.