We were laying in bed this morning, knowing it was past time to get moving but neither one of us really wanted to be first, when came the sound of gravel crunching in the driveway. “Bye, Daughter Dearest,” I said.
“She left a long time ago,” Mrs. Fetched said. That got us both moving. It was 8 a.m., so there was a certain “WTF is going on now?” in the air. She threw a dress on over herself, while I hunted for a pair of shorts. Finally, with the shorts taken care of, I looked out the window.
A cop car.
Thinking, “WTF has The Boy done NOW!?” I grabbed yesterday’s shirt off the floor and put it on as I headed to the front door. I arrived just as the cop finished handing Mrs. Fetched a subpoena.
We scanned the names, and didn’t recognize a single one. Nothing to do with The Boy, at least directly. Nothing to do with anything, as far as we could tell. There was a number on the sheet, which I’m sure Mrs. Fetched has called by now to see what she has to do with this matter. But at least it wasn’t The Boy in jail, or worse.
[Subpoena: from the Latin, sub poena, literally “under the penis,” or “by the balls.”]
UPDATE from the comments: It turns out that the case has to do with some of The Boy's old acquaintances, a couple and a kid who were working together in thievery. They may have been the ones who (officially) stole the generator from the party house after The Boy took it over there… but I suspect the whole group was in on it and used the proceeds to buy drugs and/or booze. I don’t expect we’ll get the generator back, but stranger things have happened.