Bum Scare

So, was it a bomb scare or was it a bum scare?

It's really hard to tell. But between the swastikas recently adorning our local synagogues and sidewalks, and the weapons cache found in a luxe apartment nearby (of course, this was the same guy, as it turns out, a lovely fellow really), this neighborhood is gettin' kinda hectic. Which is funny because it's super-fancy, filled to the brim with bourgeoisie (and I mean this in the Marxist sense); they even have a sort of an urban country club they all belong to, for Gosh sakes. I let A, E, and I out of this equation because we're here on the largesse of others and I refuse to believe that our hearts and values are in the wrong place. Also, we're actually poor if you compare us to our neighbors...

Anyway, I digress. Tonight when I glanced out the front window, onto our very very quiet and out-of-the-way residential street, I saw an enormous gathering of police officers, police cars, and even an ESU truck. They seemed to be searching the park across from our house. A looked and told me it was the bomb squad! As we watched, a cop came with a search light and another cop with a shovel! All the cops but these two evacuated the park, and they proceeded to dig up a large patch of ground. As I peered from four stories up, I caught a sudden blast of light in my eyes--it was a flashlight pointed right at the window--and a cop yelling at me to "get back." Okay, now that's a little too exciting for me; not words you want to hear directed into the warm comfort of your living room. But maybe I'm spoiled? I did "get back"... but only long enough to turn off the lights and retrieve the binoculars...

Well, the story, thank goodness, ended in anticlimax. After the digging, and the replacing of the dirt, and the bomb-sniffing dog, and a bunch of milling around, the cops left with their truck and cars.

So, what the hell was that? Who would even make a threat of a bomb here on this little cul-de-sac? It's like making a bomb threat on the local yarn store in Hudson Falls. A has another theory: he maintains that someone phoned into the precinct a complaint about a bum in the park (we do this on occasion, like when there's a bum lounging about on the platform of the children's jungle gym, scratching himself inappropriately and yelling at passersby--ie, toddlers). In the manner of all good games of "telephone," well, you can take it from there...