The riot police got to the wrong place

You recently moved into a new apartment. You thought the neighbors were normal and quiet, but no. Every day there were some kind of drug parties. You knew this because the neighbors had purple lamps in their windows, and they weren't just lighting. They were fertilizer for their marijuana, you could say. You were surprised they hadn't been sent to jail for drug use yet.

Today you stayed home that evening and settled down in front of the TV with a cup of tea and some cookies to watch a movie. But it wasn't long before you heard someone knocking on the door—not lightly, like someone from the neighbors, but with a full-bore fist. Walking up to the door, you opened it without thinking. Standing before you were three large men in riot police uniforms, with Kalashnikovs and bulletproof vests. You were a little surprised and asked:

• Um... Who are you talking to?..

The riot police looked at you as if assessing you from head to toe. But one of them, apparently the leader, broke the awkward silence:

—Hello, we seem to have the wrong door. This isn't apartment 158, is it?

You shook your head and pointed your finger at the neighbor's door:

• No. This is apartment 158.

They apologized and went to your neighbors.