I called the police for the first time in my life, just this morning.
Don't worry, Steve didn't finally snap and try to attack me with a thumb drive or anything like that. I heard a gunshot somewhere in our neighborhood.
In the span of 2 seconds I went from "Huh, gunshot." to "HOLY PICKLES! GUNSHOT!"
See, growing up out in the willy-wags, we heard gunshots outside all of the time. People were always hunting, or shooting things for funzies, or possibly shooting at each other as bets. We also lived about a mile away from the county prison, so for all I know the warden was playing "The Most Dangerous Game Home Edition." I say all of that to explain that, yes, I am familiar with the sound of a gun discharging. It wasn't a backfiring vehicle or exploding acorns, it was a gunshot. It was also 4:15 am, I was suffering from a bout of not-being-asleepedness, and as I was sitting in my office I heard a gun fire somewhere in my neighborhood. So I did what any sleep deprived adult would do in this situation: I hit the floor and crawled into the living room.
I didn't know what to do! On one hand, I live in Alabama and everyone pretty much owns a gun. It's like Texas, but with smaller hats. There could possibly be many reasons a gun would discharge in the armpit of the morning. On the other hand, I live in a suburb where the loudest thing I normally hear is that rat-bastard child down the street playing his snare drum. A gunshot in the early morning isn't normal for where I live. I peeked out of the living room window and didn't see anything. Of course, I was only peeking out of the corner of the window, in case an angry meth-addicted, gun-wielding psychopath was charging about outside. So I ran down the hall and pretty much jumped on Steve. I didn't know if he would protect me from the afore mentioned psychopath (if he existed), but even so, he'd make a wicked human shield. I shook him awake and told him what happened. I wanted to call the police, but I didn't know if I should call emergency services, or just call the office. All I could think of was if I didn't call anyone, and someone was actually hurt, I'd never forgive myself. However, I didn't hear any screaming or cars driving away in haste, so I didn't know what to do. Steve was only partly awake, so he wasn't very helpful.
So I turned to the internet. Apparently, I'm not the only person who's ever wondered what to do in case of gunshots being fired, because I found out what to do immediately. I didn't call 911, because I didn't know what had happened and didn't actively see carnage, so I called a "Non-Emergency" dispatch number. The nice lady took down my info and I told her what happened. She asked me all kinds of questions, and asked if I wanted officers to come by and talk to me, but I declined. I probably sounded retarded, but all I said was "No, I just wanted to let someone know "in case." It's not normal to hear gunshot sounds at 4:15 in the morning around here!" She said she'd send officers to check it out, but I have no idea what good that is going to do unless a body is laying in the street.
Now I feel like an idiot for calling because it was probably nothing, but I wouldn't have been able to sleep ever again if it WAS something bad.