So I'm asleep...

Snuggled in my nice warm bed, having been fitfully sleeping.
Please, just let me sleep a little longer...

Momma, why are you talking so loud? I'm sleepy... don't you have any manners?
Sigh... she's walking around, something's going on.

"...he's there, asleep... no ma'am.... yes ma'am."

!?!?

So I wake up, throw on some shorts. My mom is walking around this half of the house in agitation, still in her nightgown.
She pauses at my door when she realizes I'm up. "There's a boy in our house."
Yeah, my brother... that's not what she means.
She continues to talk on the phone, "Yes ma'am, he's just in there asleep, I don't want to wake him up because I don't know what he might do!"
So I start creeping across the house... is he in the living room?
no... kitchen, dining room?... no
"-He's in the office-"
Oh. Ok,
so, towards the office. My dad is standing in the kitchen. I look into the office and am confused; nobody's there.
I turn, and he's sitting in my mom's desk chair in her studio, facing the computers. He's hunched over, pretty passed out. I know I would have woken up with all the whispers and tiptoeing around... I look closer, he's wearing a hillsboro baseball shirt... looks 18 or 19.
But I don't recognize him. He's vaguely familiar... I leave, start looking through my old yearbook to try and place him.

The police arrive. They seem kinda bored, but they do their job, get him outside. He's still half stoned. My parents recognize that he's someone's kid down the street, we used to know in like 3rd grade. Since he didn't do anything but end up in the wrong house... and he wasn't some nutzoid... we let him go. I was like - dude, where's my m16? I want to take this sukka outside and rough him up. That way he'll learn! YEAH.
But no, the police were like... well, since he's 18 we can't take him home... so we can let him go or you can press complaint.
Meh, why bother we said.
It was funny. I wasn't nervous, but I found I didn't know what to do with my hands. I thought "wouldn't I be more comfortable with an assault rifle in my hands."
And I was remembering a story from RA training at school, where an RA went to confront a student he thought had pot. By himself. The door opened, and there was the kid's dealer and other punk, who was just out on parole and didn't want to get caught.
They blew the kid away.
I mean, this wasn't like that. But it could have been some freak like that, not just a drunk stoned kid from way down the street.
Meh, that was my morning. Time to play Tenchu.