A neighborly conversation

OK, backstory. Our next door neighbor's house was "egged" two days ago. Their back porch and screen door were apparantly covered in eggs and shells, and our neighbor "Shelly" was rightly none too happy about it. K and I were outside the other night talking to her about it and "Shelly" was saying how it was like someone covered her patio in Elmer's Glue and it all smelled like wet dog.

Fast forward to 6pm last night when I got home from work. "Shelly" is outside again watching her daughter play while talking to "Faye", her neighbor on the other side. I went over to say hello, and "Shelly" had just begun to tell "Faye" that her house had been egged two more times. She was saying how she was relaying the story to a third neighbor how her house had gotten egged the second time around 8am while she was in the shower. The neighbor responded "I can still see it all over your back door", which is how "Shelly" found out she had gotten egged the 3rd time.

Needless to say "Shelly" was pissed. She noted that they were all brown eggs, and was considering knocking on everyone's doors to see who had brown eggs. She continued on with the story, telling us that she called the police around noon about the incident and how they were going to send someone over to get a report from her.

Then around 1pm there was a knock at her door, and "Shelly" assumed it was the police so she answered it. Except that it was a woman she didn't know.

She was like "Um. Who are you?"

The woman replied that she was the wife of "Shelly's" husband's boss, and wanted to know if she was OK and if she needed someone to watch her kids while "Shelly" handled things.

"Shelly" responded, "Um. We're OK. It's just eggs."

To which the woman responded: "That's not what I'm talking about. Your husband had a heart attack at work and they took him away in an ambulance."

"Shelly" said she had no idea, thanked the woman, and then tried to call her husband's cellphone. To which she got no response.

At which point "Shelly" looked at both of us and our shocked, concerned, and anticipatory faces and realized we were waiting for more. But apparantly "Shelly" was done and didn't know what else to say.

"I don't know where my husband is." with a dismissive shrug.

"Did you ask the woman?" I asked, picking my jaw off the ground.

"No."

"Did you call the police back?" Faye asked with similar concern.

"No."

"Did you try calling ambulance companies or the hospitals?" I asked, trying to figure out if he's alright, or even alive.

"No. I don't even know what hospitals are around here."

"So you don't even know if he's OK???? Look up [hospital 1] and [hospital 2] and give their ERs a call. Like now." Faye said.

"What good would it do? I don't have a car!"

"When you find him, we'll get you a car or a ride. Now go make those calls! MOVE!" I told her.

The total lack of concern/compassion was just incredible to me. K's jaw hit the ground when I first told her the story later that evening. She showed more caring and concern than "Shelly" did about her own husband. I am still floored that this story only came out because we were talking about "Shelly's" home getting egged. We know this guy. Everyone in the neighborhood knows him. He's a friend to anyone who meets him.

But getting back to the story, as "Shelly" was walking to her house to make those calls, her husband pulls up in his car.

"Faye" and I exchange glances of "Thank god he's OK."

"Shelly" says to him "We got egged again..."

*sigh*