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By now you are probably wondering why the hell Red has continued her decade long friendship with me. Why she would put up with all my bullshit after all these years.

Well, I will tell you why.

Crazy attracts crazy. Underneath Red’s calm demeanor is hiding another psychopath. Thats right!

One time Red almost blew us up.

It all started when Red’s husband, Skillstorm, found a job over sea’s. He left a few months prior to Red. Red was left with the task of moving their apartment. The procrastinator that Red is, waited until the last weekend to start. I was in town that weekend (from vegas) so I helped her out, after a day of partying, anyway.

It all started on a saturday morning after a few mimosas. I pulled up to Red’s apartment and walked into the disaster from hell.

There were boxes, clothes, trash, dishes (you name it) everywhere. In the center of it all, a giant trash can.

I loved this.

You see, being OCPD, I’m the opposite of a hoarder. I hate clutter. I hate mess. So, I throw everything away. This can cause many problems when I’m searching for important documents or bills.

I had been wanting to trash most of Red’s apartment our entire friendship.

I was in bliss.

Red was not alone in her  apartment that day. She had two of Skillstorm’s friends there helping. A delightful couple, Cherry and Boots.

I started doing what I do best, throwing stuff away and ordering people around. I’m not really sure what I like more. Throwing stuff away or ordering people to throw stuff away.

Red didn’t mind. She was numb to my antics and greatful for my help. Cheery and Boots were good sports.

“Throw it away!” I ordered. “Throw it all away!”

My eyes were sparkling.

However, there was one thing we could not throw away that day.

Boots grabbed a bag off the hook of the bedroom door. He opened the bag up. He looked inside. He then gently set the bag on the bed and whispered,

“Oh, shit.”

Seeing his actions, the rest of us paused.

“What is it?”

Cheery and Red asked in unison.

It was a live, hand grenade.

You see, a decade ago, when Skillstorm was discharged from the military, he decided to take with him a little souvenir. A small, deadly souvenir which he kept in a bag, hanging on the bedroom door, until today.

The four of us sat there, still, trying to decide what to do.

We couldnt put it in the trash. We didn’t want to risk blowing up the trash man.

After a few minutes of debating Red came up with a plan. She would call the fire department and ask where we could drop off explosives anonymously.

This sounded good to us!

So, Red did what any sacred, rushed, explosive concealing ginger would do.

She picked the grenade up with salad tongs, placed it between two bricks on her porch and made the call.

Can you guess what happened next?

No, luckily the grenade didn’t explode. However, as it turns out the state of California doesn’t have anonymous bomb drop off centers.

Nope!

As a matter of fact we were now considered terrorists in the states eyes.

Yippee!

Within two minutes the sheriff, the fire department and the bomb squad arrived and blocked off Red’s entire street.

Red, being such the curteous neighbor, knocked on her neighbor’s doors trying to explain and apologize. This was a silly thing to do because they

EVACUATED THE ENTIRE APARTMENT COMPLEX!

She could have, much more easily, apologized to everyone all at once as they huddled outside waiting those four hours.

Red is an asshole.

Poor Red! She sat outside by the caution tape being interrogated for what seemed like hours. Then to add insult to injury, her brother  showed up to help just in time to witness the event. Then came her dad.

Both relatives enjoyed this very much.

A full humiliation for Red. Her face matched her hair.

image

Here is red sitting outside her apartment that day. She photoshopped her own disguise...She sure made herself into one ugly bitch!

The law took pity on Red. She did not go to woman’s prison that day. After several hours and the grenade retrieval, the caution tape was removed and we were all allowed to go back to the apartment and try to finish the big move.

We learned nothing that day.

Friends help you move but REAL friends help you move hand grenades!

2 thoughts on “Real Friends Help You Move Grenades

  1. Pingback: Chasing Pussy | It's not my fault.

  2. Pingback: The Fun Girls | It's not my fault.

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