blood, Brussow, conflict, fighting, police, Springbok, violence

I’m not Samoan. I’m just a snitch with a Blood-Lust.

      I should have called this policeman’s number instead.
I dialed the emergency number the other night. For the first time in my life ever. I felt very bad. Like I was a big fat tattle-tale. A snitch of the worst kind.I had to hide in a dark corner to do it. 

I was calling the police because there was a rip-roaring fight happening outside on the main road.. Our neighbors had been hosting a little posse of hoodlum drinkers and drugsters. They had been happily doing what hoodlums do for a few hours when they then progressed to the next thing that hoodlums do when they’re wasted and/or high – Fighting. Screaming. Swearing. Smashing bottles. Kicking people in the face as they lie on the pavement. The usual. 
I watched from behind my curtained windows while they beat each other up. And then I decided, dammnit, I’m calling the police. I mean, what if they started smashing their heads on my van for goodness sake? What if they bled on my driveway? What if they trampled the ONE living flower bush I have growing in my front yard? So I dialed the magic number. The operator put me thru to the Police. They wanted to know, ‘How many people are there outside on the street?’ and then ‘What ethnicity are they?’
Without thinking I said, “They’re Samoan. They’re screaming up and down the street in Samoan.”  And then I mentally kicked myself. Damnit! “Umm, I mean, not that I can understand what they’re saying or anything…because I’m not Samoan. Noooo not me…” The operator sighed. She didnt care about my blithering racial indecisiveness. Whatever! “The police will be there shortly.”

I hung up the phone and thought about how much I loathe brown people who get drunk and go psycho in public. They make all the rest of us brown people look bad.

And then I waited. And waited. While hoodlums smashed each other some more. The swearing was really getting on my nerves. If I’d had a sniper rifle, I would have picked them off one by one. The police were taking aaaaages to show up. The idiots got tired of beating each other up and started meandering away down the road. Leaving behind one wild fool who stood in the middle of the road shouting for them to come back and fight him. They ignored him and disappeared. (Hopefully to fall over into a ditch somewhere and drown in a puddle.)

But the lone fool wasnt done yet. He started taking all his clothes off. Shoes, shirt, pants. All waved around and thrown on the road. Thank goodness he stopped at the underwear. But even so, it wasnt a pretty sight. (He was definitely NOT Sonny Bill Williams contender material.) He stood there in his semi-naked glory screaming about how much he wanted to ‘F*** everybody up. Come here so I can kill you!’  It was so tiresome I wished I could go fight him myself. I was sorely tempted to get the Fab Five out of bed for an impromptu cautionary lesson, “You see that fool children? Naked in the middle of the street and screaming his head off? That’s what happens when you  drink alcohol and do drugs. That could be you one day. So remember this pitiful sight and just say NO.”

The police finally showed up. They brought a lock up van, three squad cars and at least ten officers in bullet proof vests. I guess they reeeally wanted to be ready for a rumble with a pack of drunken Samoans. And all they found was one lone nutcase missing his clothes. I was gleeful. I wanted to see them take him out with a WWF style body slam. Maybe zap him a little with a tazer. I was hoping he would resist arrest. Swear at a fist-happy cop. Ok, I confess, I really wanted to see this fool suffer. But that didnt happen. Because as soon as the police showed up, the fool started crying. “They beat me up…they ripped off my clothes…I was so scared…”

Ohmigosh. His acting was worthy of an Academy Award. Right up there next to the Springbok Brussow. So instead of getting the treatment he deserved, the police were somewhat nice to the idiot. They calmed him down. Gathered up his clothes. Helped him get dressed. Graciously opened the squad car door for him. And then drove off. They didn’t hear me calling out. Nooooooo! I want you to smash him! Beat him up a little. Pleeease?! I was so mad that he didnt undergo a bit of police brutality. And again, I wished I had thrown rocks at him myself.

Now in the cold light of day, I’m a little ashamed of my lust for blood and violence.(Just a teensie bit. Not enough to ask for divine forgiveness though.) But I am stockpiling some rocks. For the next hoodlum get-together.
So, people – what brings out the bloodlust in you? What gets YOU all riled up? 

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8 thoughts on “I’m not Samoan. I’m just a snitch with a Blood-Lust.”

  1. Love You Post!Kept me laughing and giggling all the way through!. Very entertaining read!Sounds like you had a very uneventful night. Sorry to hear you didn't get the bloody beat up you were wanting. HEHE. LOL at the bolice bring in the SWAT team to take care of business. Oh man that would have been funny to watch. I guess its exactly like you said 'they were ready for a rumble'. Only to be convinced by oscar nominated pity plea.

  2. Lol..clearly you need nice, non outta control drunk drugged neighbours. But no worries, once the Telesa series outsells Harry Potter, you can move into a posh gated community.My BL is someone else finishing the toilet paper without replacing..

  3. Lol. This is what I don't miss about home.. it's so embarrassing! They pull the rest of us down with them when they behave this way! I've snitched too and felt guilty but it'd be worse waking up to a crime scene. We are the ones that work hard, party responsibly and go about our own. It's hard enough in the world as it is. Yet I feel the eyes and I see between the lines and this "neanderthalistic behaviour" is what is assumed of me…. On the flipside these 'hoodlums' are usually just looking to fill the void their parents didn't fill. & if this is all they know, then this all they'll do. So in any case it is education & parenting that is the key! Yes this is y BL ltoo ol but it all goes back to the parenting, the first teachers!

  4. hahahaha..Lani this was so funny! and what an Actor your neighbor was! not so macho when the cops showed up huh!! thank goodness for them though! I remember being at a 'celebration' in Dunedin where the brown fold got all drunk and then into a kafuffle, slamming smashing swearing, and me and my lady friends did the same (hid in a cupboard and called the cops) It was such a relief having them show up and take control of the situation, remove the intoxicated egos..and bring a sense of saftey and calm again eh! Not sure if i'd get the same prompt response over here in samunda!!xoxo

  5. haha too funny. What gets me riled up? there was a fight down the road 2 weeks ago, they are regular fighters so I didn't bother getting up to see what was happening that night, just lay in bed waiting for all the screaming to end. What really pissed me off was the next morning leaving for work I found the "for sale" sign that is usually picketed in our front yard, had been ripped in half and lying on the lawn. An idiot (from down the road fight) I assume had ripped off the sign and taken off with the wooden post the house will never get sold because we haven't received a replacement sign yet.

  6. LOL @ this post. I loved it!! Cracking up the whole time. I'm guilty of wanting a lil lust for blood and violence too. Hahaha!! Picture of the Rock totally threw me off tho.. 🙂

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