When I was 21, my then roomate and I had an entire two story Apartment building to ourselves in a rather lousy neighborhood. I figured that nobody would really mind if I practiced electric guitar there, and with one exception to this, I was right.
There was another building that was across the street from my livingroom that was populated genuinely scary people, who's lives essentially consisted of hanging out on their doorsteps, drinking, taking drugs and fighting with each other, and whoever came by, irregardless of the time of day, as they were usually outside making lots of noise really late at night.
One night, I was practicing my guitar, and one of them put his hand through the window of my front door, and cut himself badly in the process. My roomate told me what had happened, and I went out to see what had happened.
The person who did it responded with, "Look what you made me do to my hand," whereupon he proceeded to curse me out about making too much noise, and thus interfering with the noise that he and his freinds were making.
I gave the scenario some thought, and came to the conclusion that I had not 'made' him do anything. Instead of coming over and asking politely to turn down, (Which was in itself was contradictory, considering the fact that he and his lowlife freinds were generally more of a blight to the neighborhood) he had instead destroyed property that I would have to fix out of my own pocket, and then had the gall to place the blame for it, as well as the injury that he incurred in doing so on me.
He then went away after this exchange, and I proceeded with cleaning up the glass, and boarding up the window, and that was that. I really didn't want to get into a fight with about 10 or twenty people. --It was after this exchange I started seriously thinking about getting a gun for household protection.