The Great Fence Robbery!

One of my friends requested I post about the time someone stole my six-foot cedar fence. Yes, you read that right, and no, this is not a fictional story. Two guys stole my fence in broad daylight. Seriously.

Now, this did not happen at my current place of residence, which shall remain undisclosed thank you very much, so all you neighbors out there who might be reading this, you are safe from fence snatchers and can sleep well tonight. BUT it did happen in a city near you.

This is how the Great Fence Robbery went down.

One summer day I was doing my laundry, and yes, this is proof that laundry is evil. Just saying. But, as I walked to the laundry room with a bulging basket of evil, I noticed two strange men in my yard dismantling my fence with power tools and idiotic grins on their faces.

I just stood there, held my laundry, and stared for about seven-point-three seconds, because who expects to see this in their yard? It had to be a mistake, right? Wrong.

I dropped my laundry and grabbed the phone.

Did you know that if you call 911 and tell them two guys are stealing your fence they don't believe you at first? I swear, it's a sad day when a full-grown woman has to convince the 911 operators that she is indeed being robbed, and no, she is not high on anything, and no, this is not a prank. Sheesh!

With the assurance that the police would be there soon, I hid the kids in a back bedroom, armed myself with a camera, and burst outside to confront the very strange strangers.

Click. Click. Click. Proof for the police just in case they didn't believe me either.

As I snapped their photos, the crooks whirled around and yelled, "What are you doing?"

I hesitated for about two-point-one seconds then yelled back, "I'm taking pictures in MY yard. What are you doing?"

It was now their turn to stare at me. Only, their idiotic grins were gone. Somehow their demonic glares were worse. Shudder.

Now, I know you are wondering what happened next. I wondered the same kind of thing as I edged back toward my door, because suddenly a camera felt like a lousy weapon. They, after all, had power tools...and scary glares...and who knew what else.

Luckily, they didn't follow me into the house, but they did put away their power tools, and instead of politely dismantling my fence with said tools, they used brute force and tore it down. Within minutes only broken posts were left, protruding from the ground like jagged teeth ready to chomp my yard.

The bad guys threw my fence panels into their their waiting truck, which I also photographed, and drove away.

I watched them drive off, still not quite believing they took my fence, and waited for the police.

And waited...

And waited...

And waited...

TEN hours later they showed up.

TEN!

They didn't even apologize for taking so long. Apparently fence stealing wasn't high on their list because it didn't involve weapons, and power tools didn't really count.

I wanted to grab them by their walkie-talkies and yell, "Seriously?" But I didn't because they did have weapons. Big ones. And handcuffs. And my kids didn't need to see me go away, too. The fence was enough loss for the day.

All I could do was take the tardy cops on a flashlight-lit tour of my now fenceless yard and give them the pictures. They never found the fence crooks--or my fence.

Needless to say, we didn't live in the best hood. Okay, it wasn't even the second best hood...or the third. And when the swat team became very familiar with my next door neighbors, we sold our house as fast as we could.

The good news is, we've never had our fence stolen at our new place, so life is sweet. And fenced. And swat team free.

So, what does this story have to do with writing? I'm not sure, but it's a great story. Make sure your own story is, too.

Leisha Maw