There is an ongoing joke about "feeling like Henry Hill" in my neighborhood. The reference is to the 1990 movie about mobster-turned-informant Henry Hill who, towards the end of the film, is followed throughout the day by an FBI helicopter.
Don't get me wrong. I love the police chopper that arrives instantly on the scene whenever there are suspects at large. Armed robberies, assaults, and unruly gangland funerals have required extra attention and diligence on behalf of the Chicago Police Department recently. Each time I spot the helicopter hovering overhead, I take heart in knowing that Beverly has its own guardian angel keeping watch. Some people have even taken to calling the pilot "Batman."
So as I sat down to catch up on my People Magazines the other night, I wasn't surprised to hear the chopper flying above my house. What did surprise me was when big, bright police search lights were shone directly into my backyard and driveway.
One would have assumed my first thoughts to be:
Oh, crap! They are looking for a killer in my yard!
Better set the alarm and make sure the doors are locked!
Instead, I cursed my husband for not cutting the lawn (severely overgrown) and leaving out a huge open garbage can full of empty beer bottles from our block party a few weeks ago. I really didn't want Batman thinking we were drunken idiots who didn't value good lawn-care.
Anyway, to wrap things up, I guess the Little Caesars Pizza a few blocks away was robbed, but thankfully at least one of the suspects was apprehended.
I just don't understand you felons out there. Little Caesars?? It's one thing to rob my bank, but now you're messing around with my $5 pizza night.
Enough is enough.