Sofía Viagra
During my junior year, my roommate and I hated our neighbors. HATED. They lived below us and would leave notes on our door and on my roommate’s car. These notes accused us of stealing their packages, complaining that we were too loud at 11 pm, and other annoying shit. My roommate was seeing this guy who was a volunteer fireman (hot I know). We were bitching about our neighbors when her volunteer fireman had an incredible, insane idea. Our neighbors put a couch out on the street that they were getting rid of. As a responsible fireman, he came up with the brilliant idea to…. set it on fire. So chaotic.
It was 10:30 pm. Our neighbors were probably watching a Pixar movie in their matching J Crew pajamas (they gave Disney adult vibes). He set the couch on fire. We had 30 seconds to take our picture in front of the couch before we had to bolt inside. Our volunteer fireman bolted to his ride a block away. He comes up the street, not in a fire truck, but in a regular truck with equipment. That should’ve been their first tell that something was up. He starts to put out the couch while yelling for our neighbors to come out. Their faces were absolutely priceless. I was watching them from my apartment window, watching their lives flash before their eyes. Payback is a dish best served blazing hot in flames.
All of a sudden, we hear real sirens. Someone had actually called the fire department. In fear of his job (volunteer job?), our firefighter jumped in his truck and hauled ass. We watched as an actual fire truck with sirens and flashing lights pull up to our tiny little college housing apartment. We couldn’t stop laughing. I finally pulled myself together to run outside and give judgemental stares at my neighbors and try to flirt with firefighters.
The next day, unfortunately, my roommate had to break up with the firefighter. She couldn’t have his truck be anywhere near our apartment in fear of incriminating ourselves. Those girls were RAs so they did have access to the security cameras (didn’t think that one through). I don’t know if they ever looked at them. But I do know, they never put passive-aggressive notes on our door again.
