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Two young children, a boy and girl. Neither could be older than five or six and both blond like the Swedish Bikini Team. They live next door and were playing ball on the street in front of their house while I sat on our front porch reading a book. I could hear them talking and laughing, as kids will do; kicking, shouting, footsteps…
…and suddenly, silence.
Turning in the direction I expected them to be, I was initially taken aback by the sight of them, lurking at the end of our driveway. There they stood, like two wily horror movie villains, with Charlie’s car standing between us, their faces tinted green from the glare of the vehicle’s back window. No sound, just a static and suspicious gaze.
They looked like something out of Children of the Corn.
“What the hell are they doing?” I thought to myself.
Their vacant stares then seemed to develop into concern followed by an argument of sorts which went something like this:
“We have to get the ball.”
“You get the ball.”
“No, you get it!”
Finally, without explanation or agreement, they both turned away from our driveway and ran home.
“Did what I think happen, just happen?” I wondered.
Did these two little blond kids accidentally kick their ball into my dad’s yard and were too afraid to retrieve it? Is this what Charlie has become? The scary old man in the creepy house with the un-mowed lawn? When I’m not here, do the neighborhood children dare each other to ring our doorbell and run away? I had to investigate to be sure.
With a keen eye out for their return, I wandered over to the spot where they stood not a minute before and turned back around towards our house. And there it was: a little red, white, and blue mini-basketball wedged under my dad’s car.
Good God, Charlie is Boo Radley.
Note to kids: It's probably best to keep your balls outta Charlie's yard. (Credit: Goodshoot via JupiterImages.com)
Shaking my head in disbelief, I pulled the ball out from under Dad’s car and walked over to the end of the neighbor’s driveway looking for any sign of the kids. A few seconds later, the girl, the older of the two, popped out of her garage, her short curls skipping down the driveway towards me. I think she recognized me from our porch as I held up the ball.
“Did you guys lose this?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Yeah, I was just about to come over and get it,” she lied, though I’m sure relieved as well.
As I bounced it back to her, she gave me a grateful grin and scooped it up in her arms before going back to play in the street.
“If it comes over again, it’s okay. Just come on over and get it,” I advised. I didn’t want her to be afraid, so when she replied, “Okay” I patted myself on the back for managing to purge at least one unnecessary fear for the child.
“The boogieman isn’t real.” Good on me, right?
While walking back to our front porch to return to my book, I continued to reflect on my generous offer to the little girl. No need to be afraid. “Just come on over and get it,” I’d said. Why would it be a problem otherwise?… Hmmm… Then it hit me.
“Good lord. What have I done?”
"So I went next door to get my ball when all of a sudden this scary old guy comes out and starts chasing me with a motherboard in his hand..." (Credit: George Doyle via JupiterImages.com)
Abruptly, my self-congratulatory celebration was interrupted by images of the scenario unfolding without me here as a buffer.
- Innocent child kicks ball into Dad’s yard.
- Child walks into yard (as directed by me) to retrieve ball.
- Charlie spots unknown child walking into his yard.
- Charlie attempts to defend territory like a rabid cocker spaniel.
- Traumatized child runs screaming from the scene.
And somehow my good deed had become an invitation to terror, phobias, and years of therapy. Damn. That little blonde girl and her brother were clearly already smarter than me by standing steadfast at the end of our driveway.
Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. But Charlie’s real too so if you see him, run, run like the wind!
…
Would you live next door to Charlie? Do you have your own spooky neighbor story? How about these creepy neighbor classics?
The Klopeks from The Burbs
Lars Thorwald from Rear Window
When I was a kid, my next door neighbor was this gruff older guy who had four huge bullmastiff dogs and this really loud motorcycle that he only took out at night. I was terrified of him for the longest time until one day one of the dogs managed to get over the fence. I thought it was going to eat me but it turned out to be the nicest dog ever. I managed to take it back to him and he was impressed enough to offer me a job dog-sitting for him regularly.
He bred them as show dogs and loved them like his children. He paid me quite a bit of money to take care of those giant dogs and I eventually ended up loving them like they were my own.
Thanks for stopping by, Matt, and for the lovely story! Sounds like something straight outta Disney.
Unfortunately Charlie hates pets of any kind (at least he pretends to) so no chance of him making friends that way.
Natina
I don’t believe he is an Ogre – underneath he is a real pussycat (I hope!)
Not an ogre or a pussy cat, exactly. I’d say Charlie’s more like a porcupine: A little scary to look at AND you might get the sharp end, but underneath the prickly exterior lies… a mammal.
Natina
I love the title of your blog. I have the palate of a picky 4th grader, and I’m always hearing this. Great site.
Thanks for stopping by! A 4th grader maybe the only person on earth more picky than Charlie.