The Most Exciting thing to Happen since that One Creepy Old Guy Mistook me for a Hooker

Okay – This is AWESOME. And, as a disclaimer, lest you think me insensitive, let me start out by informing you that no priests were harmed in the making of this entry.

Okay. So I’m heading into work today in the fairly, well, colorful neighborhood in which I work. I’m parking my ever so sporty and dangerous soccer mom minivan in front of the Quaker Meeting House. So, well, as you read on, you can imagine that this is the sort of thing that happens all the time. SUDDENLY, out of nowhere, a police car races by me, lights on and everything, and parks on the corner across the street from me, in front of St. Peter’s Cathedral and all around Catholic Elementary School. Not one, but two cops get out. There is another County Police Cruiser already parked on the corner.

So THEN, I walked the block to work, and as I’m opening the door this guy down the street starts yelling and there’s a crash like a broken bottle or something. So I hightail it into work and lock the door.

But my curiosity gets the better of me. I come out, I look around. People are gathering on the street. There are more cops. Eventually there are about 5 or 6 cop cars. There are fire engines. There are rumors.

Someone has broken into the Rectory. Someone is holding priests hostage. He has a gun. He’s threatening to jump out the second floor window. No. He’s just saying he’s holding hostages. He’s saying he has a gun. Noone really knows and the cops aren’t talking.

Eventually they got the guy out and went away. It turns out all the priests are on vacation (leaving, I might add, the parishoners’ souls in mortal jeopardy, but, well, whatever). But, the secretary did show up for work at nine, and reportedly started barracading herself in her office. And the guy was breaking a lot of stuff and apparently threw a toilet out the window. A toilet.

Add this whole incident to the list of reasons that I suspect I may be Catholic. Shit like this never happens to presbyterians.

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