Fireworks

Yesterday I heard yelling. I went out the front of the house and realized it was a woman's voice bouncing from the street around the corner so I went inside and came out of the back of my house and there she was parked on the street sitting in her car. "I'm done I am so done. I threw him out," she said, shouting out loud to nobody and everybody. She was in the driver's seat with the window open.

I looked down the street and saw two police SUV's parked on the left side of East School Street. One young thin officer walked towards her to connect with the woman. "There he is that's him, gray sweatpants!" The officer quickly turned and ran back. 

A beautiful black woman popped out of the top window of the red building across the street. Her shoulders were bare. She was wearing a strapless bodice. "He's a black man, they're gonna kill him!" She moaned in anguish. I looked down the street and the officers were wrestling the man in sweatpants to the ground.

The first-floor neighbor next door came out and asked me, "What's going on?"

"A domestic dispute," I said. Her toddler boy wandered out behind her. Then her husband came out, scooped him up, and said to her, "I don't want him to see this, let's go back inside."

Then the teenage girl on the top apartment of the same building shouted out of her bathroom window, presumably to the cops, "She was going to run him over! The lady drove around the block twice to run him over!" She was wailing. Her mother came out onto the porch and told me, as I stood on the pavement below, "My daughter gets very upset about these things."

"Tell her to call the dispatch ladies, because that's good information," I replied.

It was like the TV show Laugh-In when the comedians popped out of windows to make comments.