Small apartment building -- eight units.
Two basement units, and then a first, second, and third floor, each with two units.
I'm on the 2nd floor.
Cho went nutzz on the 3rd floor -- interrupting my dinner.
Started hearing some commotion, yelling, a few "slams" ... ok, somebody is gettin'
their @ss chewed, I assume.
But it escalates.
Furious screaming, pounding, slamming ... wood splintering and going *SNAP* ... umm ..
Glass breaking, yelling and pounding continuing, more wood snapping, things crashing ..
Soon three young daughters of the mother living in that unit come fleeing down the
stairs -- half dressed and barefoot -- to escape the wrath of nutzzo Cho.
Sorry, no pics.
More crashing, slamming, walls shaking, window shatters, glass falling to the street,
landing on a parked vehicle there -- nice.
Cho rants on and on -- rice cooker tumbling down the stairs and landing at my doorstep.
My wife goes to find the daughters -- taking some flip flops and jackets to them.
I eat my peas and carrots --> not good if cold.
Police arrive on the scene, subdue Cho, muffle him (that voice sound was funnay x a lot),
handcuff him, and lead him to the slam.
I go look at the damage -- fucking hurricane in the hallway and in that unit.
Everything that could go *SNAP* did go *SNAP*.
And the apartment doors in this building are are metal, but Cho went after that
woman's door with ... something ... that carved 6 or 8 SLASHES into it.
Cripes.
Cho is not that father there, I later found out.
He's a "boyfriend" of the single mother of three daughters that lives there.
Did "There'll be no more nookie, Cho" set him off?
