excitement next door

On an exhausting Wednesday evening, I slumped into my soothing bed - well and truly passed by bed time. Already I dreaded the sound of my alarm the following morning, ordering me to go and 'dominate the brats'.

Sleep quickly came and my mind was consumed by crazy snippets; dreams with a meaning or a creative collection of thoughts? I was somewhere between Neverland and Wonderland when an obtrusive noise hammered into my mind.

Disgruntled, yet intrigued, I rolled over to the window.

Flashing lights, florescent suits, officers and one bloody huge hammer were at the soup kitchen next door. The 3am glow of the time made me wonder what all the damn fuss was about?!

The dark, agitated figure inside the soup kitchen, peering out like a frightened animal was clearly the answer.

I watched resistantly, my recently moulded pillow screaming out to my heavy head, yet my quest for drama made me linger on the window sill.

Almost comically, the team continued to smash the heavy black door, trying to defuse the break in situation. They were locked out, unable to destruct the tamper proof lock, and the hungry intruder was helping himself to all the treats that he could find inside.

Ladders and crow bars were bought into the situation to no real avail -

and so the deafening banging continued.

Annoyed, I lay back down in bed.

Leave the poor bugger alone, he's only hungry... OR... HURRY UP! So I can go back to sleep!

What seemed like hours later, I heard the triumph from the team as the door smashed.

Giving into the excitement in my heart, I sat up again to watch the next segment unfold.

The officer and negotiator crept into the kitchen, made easier by the key produced from the local priest next door.

I watched as the looming figure darted about the space,

like a frantic animal he was unsure which way to go.

Cornered and arrested, or a getaway out the back with potential injuries pending his large physical condition. He chose to give in and was handcuffed.

The discussion inside was quite laborious, and so I lay back down to sleep.

The murmuring of assertive voices and the concerned priest did not stir me from my warm blankets.

The car drove away and the lights faded - the street was left quiet once again.

Minutes after, still lying there, my thoughts began to cloud.

That feeling of sleep dragging you under came again, less with ease this time.

And instead of creative thoughts and hopeful dreams, I thought of a man.

A man who was so hungry that he broke into a soup kitchen.

A man who was so lonely, he wanted to get arrested by police for company?

A man that was so odd, that he threw potatoes all over the backyard?

A man that was alone on the streets with no-one to care for him.

My sleep and bed was appreciated more then ever that night...

so much so, that I didn't even mind my alarm.