Yesterday afternoon, spring had definitely sprung. As my husband and I sat on the couch watching mindless TV, we found ourselves, in a word, horny. Figuring we had about 1/2 an hour to take care of our sorry state before our evening engagement, we took off for the bedroom.
To set the scene: like I said, it’s spring the windows were open (which we forgot). We live on the first floor of a garden-style apartment building. The blinds were closed.
We were rather, um, occupied when we heard rustling in the bushes outside our window. I figured it was the wind, shaking the branches. Then we heard giggling, which was distinctly NOT the wind. Then we heard a pubescent male voice say “Holy shit” and more giggles. By this time we had frozen, stopped what we were doing and looked at each other in disbelief. My husband threw a shirt at the window which made the blinds shake and make a lot of noise, but they little fucks didn’t move their sorry asses until he started to get off the bed and come towards the window.
My husband grabbed his clothes and started for the front door. I stopped him, because I figured he might have killed the little bastards. Now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have let him.
Those pipsqueak little weasels insinuated themselves into MY bushes, found a small strip in MY blinds through which they could see MY bed and figured they had a free fucking show??? What the hell happened to privacy? Or at least discretion. I know they’re teenagers, but come on. It’s not like I was screaming in marital bliss or trying to become an exhibitionist.
Needless to say, we’re off to Bed bath & Beyond for some opaque curtains tonight. I think I should find the little maggots and charge 'em for them.
So, Teeming Millions, what ought I do to these mangy voyeurs the next time I see 'em? The best my husband could come up with, short of ripping them limb from limb or calling the cops was to tell their parents. But there must be a better way. Let me have it!