Monday, March 20, 2006

An exciting Friday night

Chris went on Friday to pick up his last check and when he got it, it was short $50.00 - a commission for some humidifiers that he had sold that his boss had told him that he was going to pay Chris for. So, of course Chris calls him to find out what happened to the $50.00 (Note: this exact thing is why Chris had to quit working for the guy. Every week he would either take time off of Chris' time card - which is illegal and why we have labor laws - or he would "forget" to put a commission on his check. Well, that and the fact that in the last 10 weeks Chris worked approximately 50 hours total). So the guy goes off on Chris, telling him that he's lucky he got a check, and how could he screw this guy by leaving, etc. Then he threatens to come over to the house and kick Chris' ass, and my ass, and on and on and on. Dude, it's $50.00. We knew you were hurting for money, but come on.

I told Chris that so far as I was concerned dude could keep the $50 and if I never hear his name or voice again, it'll be well worth it. $50.00 isn't going to kill us, and obviously it's hurting him pretty bad. (Note: I've absolutely despised this guy from the very first time I met him. Everyone knows that I just really don't like people anyway, but it's really rare that I hate someone on sight, and I did him.) So Chris and I had a three hour conversation (well, if you know Chris, he vented for three hours while I made appropriate noises), then we decided to go out to dinner. Applebees. Very good, we hadn't been there before. I had the riblets and they were awesome. Their death by chocolate dessert (not it's actual name, but you know the one I mean - 5 kinds of chocolate in one dessert) would be much better if it was served hot, but that was my only complaint.

Anyway, we get back to the house and have a message on the machine. Chris hits the button and we hear what sounds like 3 gunshots! So we look at each other, play the message back, and think "Oh my God, he's gotten drunk and gone psycho." Up to that point, my biggest fear had been that dude would get drunk and show up being loud.

Now, ours is a redneck house, the first gift that Chris ever gave me was a shotgun. He got his first shotgun when he was one day old. I'm sitting there picturing the shootout at the OK Corral in my front yard. Shit.

So Chris goes outside to see if he can see any damage to the vehicles or the house. Nothing. No more calls, nothing else happens.

(Note: No, we didn't call the police. We do not have caller ID, had no proof that dude was the one who called, nothing the police can do.)

Next morning, Chris is supposed to take his uniforms back to dude. He didn't leave them the day before because he didn't get paid in full. Then he's supposed to go work on Mike & Sandie's a/c. I'm worried he's going to get to dude's place and dude's going to shoot him or something, so I tell Chris he has to call me before he goes and when he leaves so that I know everything is ok.

So he calls me to tell me he's on the way, and right after that I get another call. The first thing I hear when I answer it is that exact same gunshot sound. And Dad says, "I haven't been able to get ahold of you for a couple days, wanted to be sure you're okay."

"What the hell was that sound?"

"What sound?"

"That sound I heard when I answered the phone."

We never did figure out what made that damn sound.

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