That was the point at which I yelled, "Back the fuck away from the house! We are armed!"
Thank God, he did. He stayed in the yard, though, briefly going over next door, and he took up a real liking to my car for some reason. He stayed leaning up against it for a while, occasionally pounding on it, and eventually the police arrived -- it took them about twenty minutes. We did not confront him, because 1) there was no imminent danger to us, and he had listened when we told him not to go in the house, and 2) I had no idea if he was drunk, on drugs, or severely mentally ill, but the odds on at least one being true were good, and while he had demonstrated enough self-preservation to get away from the house when we told him we were armed we had no idea how capable he was of understanding what was going on. That did not make him any less potentially dangerous, but it also meant that he might not be sufficiently cognizant to realize that he was in serious shit. Which would make it much less likely that he would be dissuaded by the sight of a firearm. Which could be very bad.
The first time we called the cops, we gave them a description, because he'd gone off and we figured he was just wandering the neighborhood. When he came back, we called again, and they stayed on the line with us until the units arrived. It turned out he was so intoxicated he didn't know what was going on or where he was, so it was less likely he would have posed a physical danger -- but guys who don't know what's going on can still be belligerent, so I'm really glad he didn't get in the house.
Anyway, that was my evening. How was yours?