Last night I was lucky enough to go out with two dear friends that I've known since middle school. One lives here, the other was in town for a quick trip from her hometown of Tulsa. We went out for drinks, then came back to my house to visit. A couple of glasses of wine later, my phone rings.
Let me preface this exchange by saying that 1) at this point it was half past midnight and 2) one of the girls is married to a local police officer. So the phone rings and we automatically assume it must be the police officer/husband, checking in on his wife. He also happens to be a bit of a jokester, so I thought I'd have some fun with it.
Me (answering phone): Hello?
Caller: Is this the Six residence?
Me (dripping with sarcasm, and probably slurring): Uhhhhh, no.
Caller: This isn't (insert my address)?
Me: You would know.
Caller: I'm sorry, but you're sure this isn't the Six residence?
Me: I am soooo onto you. Maybe your wife can help you out. She's right here.
I hand the phone to my friend and wait for her to finish him off. Only I can tell from the look on her face that this caller is not her husband. Oh crap.
Nooooo, it is a Fishers police officer. I opened the door to my garage to see a police cruiser sitting outside my house, peering into my garage. Turns out I forgot to shut the garage door when we came home. This nice young representative of Fishers finest is just out late at night, looking out for me and my safety, and I accost the poor guy on the telephone. I explained to the confused officer that we thought it was one of his co-workers. Needless to say, I apologized profusely and thanked him up and down. And then I promptly shut my garage door and cut myself off for the night.