Things That Go Bump In the Night

A few weeks ago I was sitting on my couch, wasting my life away, watching television. It was a cold, dark December night--the stay at home, do-nothing kind. I was feeling cozy, with a fire lit, wrapped in a fleece blanket. Then I heard a deafening "WHAM!" sound and I about jumped 15 feet. Several curses flew out of my mouth, something like "gee! gosh! darn! golly!" except they all started with “F.”

To my right was a sliding glass door facing the back yard. It sounded like a drunk elephant had just stumbled into it. I got up and peered into the night, but didn’t see anything. It didn’t help that it was extremely foggy and my visibility wasn’t more than a couple feet. So I sat back down on the couch. "Freak occurrence," I assured myself and pulled the blanket back around me.

WHAM!! The glass shook visibly this time. I felt panic shoot through me, followed by wariness, followed by curiosity. What the hell? I was alone in my house, which didn’t help. I thought about going outside, into the fog, and looking around. I mean, what could happen to me in the middle of suburban-freaking-Utah? But I had just read that day about a crazy lady who had strangled another woman and cut her baby from her uterus. I don’t have a uterus, and I’m not pregnant I don't think, so I didn't fear that happening to me. But where there is one psycho, there be others, even in Utah. Someone could be trying to lure me out of my house to do who knows what.

I thought about going for a knife, just to be on the safe side. Then I reminded myself that if I picked up a knife there was a 90% chance I would end up stabbing myself. What about a gun? Oh crap, that's right, I don't believe in them. My only other option was a spiked club which I considered using until I realized that the last time I went shopping, in my haste, I forgot to pick one up.

Instead, I told myself to stop being neurotic. Nothing was going on here. There were no psychos hiding in the mist. No escaped convicts waiting for me to come out. But there was still the noise...

I walked upstairs to my bedroom to get a better look. Peeking through the blinds, I noticed a ball sitting on the deck outside the sliding door. The culprit! A partially deflated soccer ball? But who had thrown it? The neighbor kids are notorious for kicking them over the fence but usually gather them back up again. And there were no neighbor kids in sight. It was death-quiet outside, and very dark to boot. Kids don't kick balls in the dark. And they don't hit my door twice in a row either. Maybe they were playing a prank? But what would motivate them? I've spoken maybe five words to the little tykes, mostly to tell them that they didn't have to knock on my door every time they kicked a ball over and that they had permission to enter my back yard whenever they wanted. I am a "cool neighbor." Not like the grouchy old couple that would deflate the balls I kicked over their fence as a child. Serves them right that they got their pool clogged from the pits I threw over the fence from my apricot tree. And then my dad goes and cuts the tree down. Well damn, it’s not the tree's fault! All it did was make delicious apricots. But I digress.

I went to the bathroom window, which gave a view to the side yard, just to be sure. Nothing. No children around the corner, pudgy hands cupped over their pudgy mouths. Not a soul. I walked back downstairs, not quite sure what to do. Should I just go outside? Call somebody?

WHAM!!! It hit again. All my concerns fled. I was pissed. I flipped on the back porch light, pulled open the sliding door and stepped outside into the freezing night. The ball was on the deck again, but in a different position. I stepped a little into the fog and peered out to the back of the yard. I heard noises, whispering, something behind the trees. I grabbed the ball and chucked it towards the sounds. "Stop throwing balls kids!" I yelled angrily. Four figures stepped out from behind the trees, laughing. Four of my friends. I could have strangled them.

"So you're not punk neighbor kids," I said. Then they proceeded to tell me how they had just come back from a late-night movie which was near my house and had wanted to stop by, but I didn't answer my cell phone (this was on account of laziness). After driving by and seeing that I was home, they had this “brilliant” idea to try and scare me. It all sounded comical from their point of view. They hide behind the trees with balls they find in the yard, then chuck them at the sliding door. They see me get up, peer outside, then sit back down. They throw the balls again. They see me leave the room, the lights go off upstairs, the blinds open, then close. A moment later the bathroom blinds open and then close. They make for the balls, scoop them up, head back to the trees. When I appear downstairs, they throw the balls again. The back porch light goes on, I emerge shivering and angry, yelling into the trees like a maniac. Pretty comical. The bastards.

I invited them in and we had a good laugh. It never once crossed my mind that friends were just messing with me when I heard the noises. That should have been the most OBVIOUS explanation. Funny how the mind plays tricks on you when you're alone. Two of them, the girls, felt bad enough to stop by the next day with cheesecake cupcakes. They were oh-so-delicious. Made it all worth it in the end. Wonderful guilt-inspired baked goods. The very best kind.