I CALLED THE COPS LAST NIGHT, which is a first for me in Los Angeles. I had hoped to do that less once I moved out of the Mission Dist. But this was really weird.

About 10:30pm, The dog awoke on the floor, and began to bark, albeit low and hesitatingly. At the same moment I heard voices from outside, across the street. Two or three men were talking - swearing, though it did nothave a threatening. They sounded more like bums on a late night street corner - having a dispute over??? The dog didn't seem too upset about it, but I peered for awhile out the window, only making out the faint movemeny of figures.
I'd gone into the back yard to feed Raf's cat *Li'l Mao*, when the voices from Sanborn St. suddenly were yelling - and swearing. I darted back into the house through the back door and hurried to the street side to try and see what was going on.
There were five or six figures crouched atop someone who was clearly being pinned on the ground. The actors I could make out were not bums arguing over a fifth of thunderbird: A couple of them were wearing flannels, and from the age I put it together they were gangsters.I looked frantically for the telephone, and finally got my hands on the cordless set, i was dialing 9-1-1 when a woman's voice started screaming - howling really - to "GET HIM OFF ME - GET HIM OFF ME." She was literally screaming for help.
My adrenaline was pumping and my hands shook. As I waited for the operator to pick up, I unlocked the closet in my bedroom and removed the 12ga. pump shotgun I keep there. With the phone in my righthand and the riotgun in my left, I walked back to the spyglass on the frontdoor and tried to describe what was taking place to the 9-1-1 operator. My mouth was dry... My eyes must have been dinnerplates.
Oddly the dog took no notice of any of this. That, or he simply opted out. I'm usually the one who brings courage to our relationship and adventures together p and I wasn't feeling any.
I talked on the phone, and a new dimension began to unfold in the street hassle out front. A brand new, silver PT Cruiser had pulled up, and was parking right across the street from where I'd originally scene the the gang holding someone down. One or two of the assailants broke away and walked up the hill towards Sunset. A couple was getting out of the Chrysler - the woman carrying a child in her arms, wrapped in a white blanket. To my disbelief the couple then preceded to engage - angrily - with the gang guys.
I was conveying all this to the 9-1-1 operator, when the woman with the kid yelled angrily - almost in a sob: "THIS IS MY FUCKING KID HERE YOU GUYS - YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!!"
I could not see her boyfriend for an overgrown bush on the sidewalk in front of my place, but she was walking with the kid towards the apartment building on the corner. I was off the phone with the cops by that point, and it appeared that the assailants had left. I couldn't believe there was still no sight of the cops - no L.A.P.D. air unit... Just crickets and birds.
I leaned the shotgun next to the front door, and walked gingerly out to the driveway. The couple was still outside.
As I slowly made my way out to the driveway, I made a mental note to order some non-lethal rubber loads to keep in the gun's side-saddle. I realized in that moment there was no way I'd ever be able to shoot someone with 00 buck.

"Are you guys alright?" I yelled out to the couple with the baby across the street.
The guy looked over my way and shrugged his shoulders. He had peeled his T-shirt off - which struck me as odd.
"Yeah, we're - " He began
"NO, WE'RE NOT ALRIGHT!" The girl finished for him.

Just then a cop car came rolling up Fernwood, and I retreated back to the front porch.From there I watched as the couple interacted with the two officers for a few minutes: the guy appeared to be showing them a cut on his knuckle. Then he broke away, and climbed into a Humongous white 1985 Chev Suburban parked near the corner.
He started up the truck with a great VAROOM, as the headlights came on in the same motion. As a series of movements, it was very angry young man. The woman he was with, still clutching the baby in her arms, continued speaking to the cops.
Then, to my disbelief, the shirtless neigbhour, with his cut knuckles, preceded to back the Chevy up Fernwood St. at 40mph. The cops seemed to take no notice.

I think today I am going to try and find out what happened. I don't know if my neigbhorhood falls under Hollywood or Rampart Division, but suddenly I'm interested in finding out.

NEXT WEEK: THE GYPSY FAMILY ON THE CORNER OF FOUNTAIN ST.