So a few months ago my car got broken into in the garage. The tapes show a presumably homeless guy walking in when the gate opened to let somebody out, going into my car and ransacking it. He didn't take anything except the clicker, which he later threw into the bushes. But he did throw everything in my car around. My guess is he was looking for drugs because he took none of the loose change I keep in the car for parking meters or any of my CDs.
I drive a Jeep, by the way, so there's no way to prevent theft. You just have to be careful about what you leave where in the car. But I never really worried at this apartment because it's in a gated garage monitored by video surveillance.
Anyway, today when I got home from work as I was leaving the garage and going into the building a beat down dude leaned against the gate and looked in. I went into the building and remembered that homeless guy and wondered if this was the same guy. I watched as he left the garage and plopped down on the wall in front of the building, waiting for another car to come and open the gate so he could come in and ransack my fucking car again.
I thought for a minute. Should I say something? What if this isn't the guy? What if this dude is nuts? And why deny him the opportunity to just sit on a wall? He's probably got a shitty life anyway so I should let him sit on the wall.
Then I remembered how he ransacked my fucking car and pulled off all the damn tape that was holding the glove compartment together.
So I went back into the garage and locked up everything I could lock and took anything of value out of the car. I considered putting a note on the glove compartment that said, "There is nothing in the glove box. Please do not rip all the tape off because it is a massive pain in the ass to put back on."
But I didn't because I had no paper.
As I walked back past the gate, the homeless guy was back in front of it, looking in. And he saw me. And I glared at him.
As soon as he realized I was staring right back at him he backed up and looked up at an apartment on the second floor.
"Heeeeeeeeeeey!" he called to an imaginary tenant. "Yo!"
Then he backed away from the building and ran across the street.
And that is what screenplays are made of.
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