Friday, April 11, 2008

The Further Adventures of Momrat

You'll all probably guess the twist in this story about 1/3 of the way into it. But Momrat, our hapless heroine, did not see it coming.

Late, late Wednesday night (for Momrat, that means anytime after 8 pm, and this was 10!) Momrat absolutely needed to call me to tell me that she'd been up all night reading one of my books. Not "up all night" in a good way--she really didn't like it and kept trying to get through more until finally, about 75 pages into it, she said it started picking up.

"So you're calling me to tell me you don't like my book," I said. We can always count on an honest review from Momrat. Everyone else tells us they're so happy for us and squeals.

"It's ok, I guess," she said. Then she proceeded to enumerate a number of typos and adjective agreement problems she had found. You have to admit, when the woman has a project, she tackles it to the ground.

The trouble is my phone number, like about 50% of New York City area cell phone numbers, begins with the digits 917. Momrat, in her state of late-night agitation, misdialed and hung up twice before she actually got through to me.

So 15 minutes after she hung up with me (having detailed all the parts of my baby book she didn't like), she got a phone call. At 10:15!! Scandalously late. She assumed it must me YT calling her back to tell her I hated her or some such.

It was not YT. It was the police dispatcher.

"What's the emergency?" said the dispatcher.

"What emergency?" said my mother. "You called me. Is there an emergency?"

"Ma'am, someone from this residence dialed 911 twice and hung up."

"What?" said Momrat. "That's impossible! It's just me and my husband here!"

"Well, ma'am, I'm afraid that two 911 calls came through from this address. There are two squad cars sitting in your driveway."

The bells begin to ring for my mother. That Moonrat's darn 917 area code!! "We're already in bed," she told the dispatcher. "We've put the dogs away! We've turned out all the lights!"

"Well, ma'am, it would be nice if someone could go downstairs and explain to the squad what's going on."

Naturally, "someone" turned out to be poor long-suffering Dadrat. Who, by the way, does not have difficulty dialing the telephone.


writtenwyrdd said...

OMG, that's freaking hilarious!

Some neighbors were once having, um, loud and acrobatic fun in the bedroom, with the windows open, and the SFPD got called on a possible abuse situation from across the street a block over! So this poor SFPD officer, having climbed over three fences to pinpoint source of said disturbance (which did rather sound like moans of pain) comes knocking at the door.

Let me set the scene: It's after 10 o'clock, it's dark, and a knock comes at the back door when there is no access from teh street because of a locked breezeway door. So, Ms. M, roomate of the occupied pair answers *through* the door.

"SFPD, open up."

"No. I don't know who you are."

"Open up or I'll bust down the door."

"No, come around to the front so I can see you."

"Open up."

"Show me your id in teh window." He obligingly leans out so the id is showing in the window about fifteen feet up (because the flat is on the 3rd floor).

She finally lets him in, and then explains it's just her roomies having a good time.

"I need to see 'em."


"Eitehr you get 'em or I'll do it."

"Hold on." Fortunately, the couple has heard the noise over their own and come out, looking Who Me? innocent all over the place. The cop has to check them over for signs of abuse (not a strip search) before he agrees it was a nuisance complaint. "And ma'am, he says to the loud one, next time you might close your windows."

We still tease them about that.

Tory said...

Momrat sounds like me, actually..oh dear. But it is rather funny!
Take care

Kelsey said...

My grandma once called 911 because she heard some noises outside. After the officer came to check it out, determined that everything was okay, and left, she called 911 again to Thank them.


momrat stories make me happy

Ello said...

Ah ha ha haaaaaaaa! I love Momrat! She is so freaking hilarious! Actually my youngest called 911 while I was at work and my nanny doestn't speak English so my oldest had to explain to the police officer what happened!

Colorado Writer said...

Laughing because your momrat reminds me of my mother.

My mother calls me to say she could be dead because no one ever calls her.

She lives a BLOCK away from me. I see her all the time.

She tells me I should write a book about her life.

Um. I write Middle Grade.

Sherri said...

That's SO something I would do. Laughing!

Josephine Damian said...

Moonie, back in the day when I lived in the 914 (as opposed to where I live now in the 941 - lots of potential for dyslectic confusion there), all NYC was just the 212...

It was a simpler time then, it seems.

cyn said...

oh. man.

i love momrat stories! =D

Charles Gramlich said...

Oh wow, that's some crazy shit. Poor Dadrat.

Jaye Wells said...

Scandalous! You know she told the neighbors it was your book's fault.

ChristineEldin said...

This is funny, in a very nice way!

Well, at our city house, we've had to call 911 a couple of times. Last time was when some guy was banging on our door, saying in a loud and drunken way he was collecting money for the fire department, and we should open the hell up. "Why the hell aren't you answering. Pound! Pound! Pound! I just saw your lights go off. Pound, pound, pound! I know you're in there."


Written--your story is hysterical!!

Bernita said...

Poor Momrat!

Precie said...

I would laugh, but I accidentally did the very same thing the first time I used my company's fax machine.

Cakespy said...

OMG! When I lived in NYC my sister did this once! I think she liked the attention it got her. Momrat is so much cuter! :-)

Ari said...

Heh, reminds me of my first college dorm experience when my extension ended in 3525 or such when the police was 2525. I forget the numbers. Point is, I got so many calls from unsuspecting callers thinking I was the police, I could have published my own blotter of urine in hallways and lurkers in shrubbery.

The Anti-Wife said...

Poor Dadrat! Love your Momrat stories.