A visit from the bomb squad with my morning coffee

It was wrapped up in plastic and duct tape with camouflage material and a cord handle on top, in the teardrop shape of a grenade, sinister in looks and suspicious in placement. Let the CSI episode in my head begin.

When my husband said he found something under the bedroom window while doing yard work, I didn’t think much of it until he brought it into the house. He said he thought it could have been used to break the window and burglarize the house, but perhaps the burglar had been startled and left it behind in his quick departure. It was heavy, well-used and down-right creepy when it’s under your bedroom window. After examining it, we decided to call the police just in case it was used in the few break-ins we had heard about in the neighborhood.

Flash forward to the officer who showed up at our house and said she had never seen anything like it, it looked like some kind of explosive to her, and since there were some suspicious explosions around the Phoenix area lately she didn’t want to take any chances. One supervisor visit later and the bomb squad was called. Yes, you heard right. The front patio of our house was marked off with yellow police tape and orange cones awaiting the x-ray machine from the bomb squad. I sipped my morning coffee watching the commotion from behind my car (leaving a barrier just in case.)

I secretly told my daughter that I wouldn’t be surprised if that kid next door made this thing, seeing as I found him shooting off firecrackers in the back yard when his parents weren’t home. Fifteen-year-old boys have incredible imaginations and no fear, right? Finally, the neighbor walked over to find out what was happening, his son came up behind him and kept peeking at the taped-off area with curiosity. Hmmm, he’s very interested, isn’t he? He had a very serious look on his face, but said nothing.

Two minutes after the family went home, they came back. He sheepishly followed his father and told the officer in charge, “I made that.” He dropped the bomb, (pardon the pun) and said it was a “bomb” made for a game and got lost as they concealed themselves under the tree by my bedroom window.

OK, so there was no bomb outside my window, that’s a good thing. But how many nights are there teen boys outside my bedroom window? It’s a perfect hiding spot from the street, I can see that now. But I have another thing to worry about, namely, how many teens are outside my bedroom window on any given night?

 

 

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