Attack of the News Helicopters

This morning the little angel and I were on the couch at 6:30 when I thought we might be under siege by Fox 4.

Little angel:  "Sky fishies?" (This is her term for helicopters. She thinks they look like fish.  I like it, it's kind of like calling the Lake Patrol the Sea Pigs.)

Me:  "Yes, there do seem to be a lot of helicopters.  Go back to sleepy."

But they didn't go away.  It sounded like they were right overhead, ready to parachute helmet-headed investigative reporters onto our rooftop.

After about a half-hour of this, we went upstairs and watched the news with my beloved.  It turns out there was an attempted bank robbery two blocks away at 6:20 this morning.  A security guard was shot, his car was carjacked, and he apparently dragged his bleeding self across the street to the gas station where we normally buy the paper and sometimes Baked Lay's.

The coverage was on two of the three local news channels.  I thought the helicopters might possibly be playing Sky Chicken as they circled around, trying to get good shots. It is a wee bit disconcerting to be watching a reporter and hearing the same sirens in your own neighborhood as you are hearing in the background on the television.

Of course, they don't have much to go on.  The teller apparently couldn't open the vault because he or she didn't have the right key.  I tried to comfort myself by telling myself we don't have a vault here at the house.  This didn't make me feel a lot better, because I saw two policemen coming out of the Crazy Ladder Woman's blue house earlier this week, and last week I confronted two policemen with a paddy wagon right across the street. 

I thought our neighborhood was getting better.  Two of the houses on my little block have been beautifully rehabbed in the past year.  I have no idea what all of the policemen are doing. Perhaps they are selling tickets to their ball. Somehow, though, I doubt it.

Me:  "Don't worry, sweetie.  They sky fishes are outside, and they are just looking for news."

Little Angel:  "News?"

Me:  "Yes, I'll explain that when you're six."

She wandered off, making fishie noises with her mouth.  And another day begins.