Interacted with the police today; not by choice, but don't worry, I'm not making this entry from a holding cell.

 There's a couple who live down the hall. I think every apartment complex has one. She's a beefy bleach-blonde with tattoos. He's scrawny and perpetually in need of a shave. There's a young boy living there too. He's a bratty sort of 7 year old, I'd say. Always looks like he needs a bath.

 You get the picture.

 This trio hosts a wrestling night about every 3 weeks or so. There's yelling, slamming doors, the occasional broken glass and visit from the local constabulatory.

 This afternoon was a matinee. Near as I can figure, the beef broke out in the parking lot. I heard yelling, a few choice curse words and when I looked out my apartment window, I saw it play out.

 The beefy blonde was in the driver's seat of their car. Scrawny dude was half in and half out, trying to pull her out. The car was backing out, and moving pretty good. That is, until it hit the fucking trash dumpster across the way.

 BANG!

 Glass, metal and some yelling. Dude is cradling his arm and wiping his mouth where it looks like he may have lost one of his remaining 8 teeth. The blonde is out of the car too now, throwing her cellphone at the dude and sobbing "MY fucking car!"

 The car is in bad shape, with a caved in wheel well, but the blonde insists on trying to drive it away. Screeching. The dude snaps off a windshield wiper and waves it like Darth Vader.

 Fucking comical, I swear.

 Police arrive and by now, me and a couple other residents are outside too, checking our own vehicles and just enjoying the show. The little brat is now sobbing and yelling at his father; the guy cradling his arm.

 Ah, the American family unit.

 Bliss.

 Who needs the fucking suburbs when you got all this free entertainment?