Saturday, November 19, 2011

To Be a Bear

It would seem that bear mace is now a thing in our community. On the 29th of October, someone (or a group of someones) was crashing random parties and bear macing everyone.

Last night, while I was in the States and my parents were enjoying what they thought was a quiet evening, there was a very loud and frantic banging at the door. My mom answered and found a young man writhing in agony after being bear-maced. Being a nurse and able to help him, she let him in. While he was rolling on the floor and shrieking, she managed to ask his name. "It's me!" he shouted. "Blonde John!" (Not his real name). Here, my parents realized that this was not some random kid, but an old friend of my brother's.

In an effort to decrease Blonde John's discomfort, my mom sent him into the basement to use the downstairs shower, at which point she called the police. Before getting into the shower, Blonde John begged my dad to go to the churchyard and move his truck. The churchyard is only three houses down, so my dad agreed and set out. On the ground next to the truck, he found what appeared to be an iPod and a small baggie, which he threw onto the passenger seat. When he opened the driver's side door, the bear mace was still so strong that he couldn't get within 3 feet of the interior. Obviously, he didn't move it; he just locked the doors and came back home.

Blonde John spent an hour and a half in the shower, trying to assuage the fiery torture. While he was still in there, his phone began ringing incessantly. When my mom checked who was calling, she discovered another familiar name: Bacon (another fake name -- not hippy parents), my brother's old best friend. I miss that kid. He was practically another younger brother, but some very bad things happened to his family and he moved across town and made new friends. My mom called him and told him not to call Blonde John for a while.

When the police questioned my parents, they asked my father if he had touched anything. He mentioned the bag and the iPod and they politely informed him that it was not an mp3 player. It was a scale, and the baggie was filled with marijuana. As was the truck. They found at least 10 more baggies. Thankfully, Blonde John is only going to receive a fine, though I suppose I shouldn't say that that's good.

So, TL;DR, apparently when drug deals go wrong in the churchyard, the answer is bear mace. In the churchyard. I laughed.

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