Actually, it’s funnier than that.
Walking out to the main road to go for a jog, I saw water running down the street and heard it bubbling out of somewhere. I walked up this fellow’s driveway and confirmed my guess that it was coming out of his water meter. So I knocked on his door and rang the doorbell.
He didn’t come down, so I went for my little run.
When I was done, I decided to try again. I rang the doorbell, knocked “shave-and-a-haircut,” and stepped out into the yard because I was tired of his motion light turning on and off.
And when the door opened, there he stood … with revolvers in each hand.
I almost laughed. He’s an older fellow, lives alone, a little eccentric, and if he’d opened the door and had one weapon I might have taken him seriously — after all, he did move here from a much larger town, and in his defense, it was four-something in the morning. But two guns? I found it funny, because a) I doubt he’s got the “two-gun mojo,” and b) I pictured him working the doorknob while holding that revolver in his hand, and thought he was lucky he didn’t shoot himself in the foot.
So, I showed him that his water meter was leaking, advised him to call the town and have them come check it, and went on my way.
On my way home I realized I should’ve asked him if he thought the bad guys normally rang the doorbell and knocked. I tend to think of things like that long after the moment has passed.
But, hey, it was four-something in the morning.
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