There used to be. . . a door. . .a car

So Aimee says "There's two guys out there with scissors taking that door off. . . and they're talking about how much fun it is to smoke weed."

She stands by the window.

Mom, Dad and I yak yak yak and don't think too much of it. . .

Aimee disappears into the front of the apartment.

She returns.

"Um" Aimee says, "I they just stole the door. They ran with it down the street."

(The garage behind our house, owned by our neighbors, now naked and door-less).


"What." ? ? !

Someone would grab an old door?

Nick and Aimee take off in their car to follow the two young men carrying an old door down our street.

Here is where their car used to be after they left for the pursuit.


They could not peg the looters. The weed-lovers were quick on their feet.

It was rather old door.

I guess they needed one.

Nick called the police. They came.

Even though they could do nothing at that point, it at least illustrates to the neighborhood that someone is watching and it just ain't right to take something that doesn't belong to you.