A little off topic... ok, just a different theme on what Creamo said...
I once lived in town. We had a nice little house that sat on a quiet street- quiet except for the rental right across the road. It was occupied by about 12 people (though it was only a 4-room bungalow), most of which were high school age. They didn't go to school- they were "home-schooled". They spent their time causing mischief in the neighborhood and answering their door every 15 minutes all night long (drugs? You betcha!).
I came home from work one day, got out of my car, noticed a piece of trash on the ground on my property, picked it up and turned towards my trash. Suddenly I hear a crash, and a potato flies across the street at me. It misses, but I am seriously pissed.
I pick the potato up and walk over to the door and knock. The snaggle-tooth retard answers, and I tell him the next time they throw something at me the law will arrive shortly thereafter. He yelled something at me, but the poor idiot couldn't speak a legible word of English (except for curse words, which were enunciated perfectly). I said fine, and turned back to my house.
BANG! Out the door comes retard #2. This one thinks he's black, starts with the gang-bangin' posturing and emoting. "You want some O' me? Huh? I whip yo' bellybutton you be comin' back heah!" I find myself infuriated and beside myself with laughter at the same time. Yeah, this guy "grew up on th' eas' si'e O' Be'ford. TH' EAS' SI'E O' BE'FORD!" alright (population 13,500 totally white and bible belt - too much MTV for sure).
I catch myself turning back to the property. Now I know I could kick his bellybutton all over the yard, even if he doesn't know it. I find myself contemplating it. But, thankfully, reason took hold. I knew this kid was a minor, I was a teacher, and I would lose if I touched him. I went back to the house and called the police.
I didn't stop there. I also called welfare (there was a child to a teen mother living there that was subject to a welfare case). I called a friend on the force who was a detective, and alerted him to the drug activity. I called the landlord (also a friend) and told him what was going on. I organized the neighbors to watch and report everything.
You should have seen the looks on their faces when the cops showed up, welfare showed up, the detective showed up, and the landlord dropped the "you're outta here at the end of the month" on 'em. That was priceless.
Yes, it would have been satisfying to club the guy, but in the long haul this was the way to go. No one hurt, and justice was done.
