It never rains in Southern California, but when it does, it causes a lot of havoc. It’s like it builds up over time and dumps on us all at once. Right around the time John (The Green Mile) and I first started out, we got hit with a storm, pouring rain and freezing cold. We began our night at our favorite place to eat, a BBQ restaurant that didn’t skimp on the sugary sauce. We quickly learned that starting the night stuffing our selves doesn’t make it easy to keep going, all those extra calories build up a sluggish lugchovy.
Our first house was a small one in a bad part of town. It was in mid autumn, so it was getting darker earlier, and with the rain, it was even more difficult to see. Our target was a large female who had not been reporting to the office or responding to calls. We were worried she might be dead.
The rain was terrible, like walking around in an icy shower, and the noise made it difficult to call anything out on the radio. The chilly water was building up on the bill of my baseball hat, dripping down in a steady stream along the sides and pooling at my collar bone. After a few knock and notice announcements at the door, we let ourselves in. It was unlocked. The house was pitch black, with the only light coming from the TV blasting channel zero (the tricolor columns and the steady beep), and one window with the street light beam struggling to be seen through the waterfall on the pane. The pale light robbed all the colors in the room, everything was grey or white… And the rain noise, so much noise, it sounded like we were in a tin house.
With the exception of the TV and a small couch in the front room, it was empty.
Maybe it was the Halloween time of year, or the heavy stomachs loaded with rib meat, but the house had a spooky feeling about it. There was no light, just shadows, and the cold wind was sweeping up my spine from the open door behind us. The house was old, with real hardwood floors; our wet shoes were squeaking around adding to the creep. We used our flashlight to cut through the darkness. There was one more room to search. We cautiously peeped around the door frame, first John, then me. It was empty… except for a piled up blanket lying in the middle.
“Okay, that’s it, let’s take off,” I said anxiously. The creepy tension was getting too much and I wanted to move on.
Just then there was a gasp, like all the air in the room was being sucked into a giant vacuum. The blanket went from a horizontal pile to a vertical post with a fuzzy dark mop at the top. Gravity pulled at the blanket and exposed a pale face, painted blood red and white like an evil clown, mouth wide open exposing hundreds of sharp teeth. Then the mouth formed into an evil smile and the clown looked right at me. I jumped straight up and shrilled like a young child. I looked like Scooby Doo jumping into Shaggy’s arms, only it wasn’t Shaggy, it was The Green Mile.
Okay, that last part didn’t happen, but it’s what I saw. Under the blanket was our girl, sleeping. She heard us and popped up. She didn’t have clown makeup on, or sharp teeth. … and thankfully, I didn’t jump on The Green Mile. However, I did jump back bit and maybe let out a frightened peep. That happened a long time ago, and I can still hear The Green Mile laughing.
We got her up and The Green Mile took her into the living room for a check-in talk. Once my pulse got below 120 I let my flashlight sweep the room. I saw a glare of something metal. There was a gun under the blanket with our girl. Good thing I squeaked a little, probably distracted her and saved our lives.
“Hey man, there’s a gun in here,” I said puzzled.
“Well get it out of there!”
Oh yeah, we gotta get control of weapons in a house. I think I was still rattled from Pennywise.
We had to arrest our girl for possession of a firearm, driving to jail through the downpour. On our way, we debriefed our time in the house. I’m afraid the main points of review were my possible jump in fright, looking like a squealing pre-teen. I really don’t remember it that way, but I think The Green Mile does.
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