Our townhouse is not large, but it is a good size for Mrs. Cranky, myself and an occasional visitor. It is an end unit and we have a plenty of privacy outside. Inside, however, it is sometimes a bit creepy. We border on two other units, and sometimes when our neighbors come home, or just slam a door it sounds like they are inside our unit. That combined with the fact that Mrs. C came home a few years ago, and saw a window had been jimmied open by intruders sometimes keeps us on edge. She never saw the intruders, she rang the bell, called the police, and heard the burglars leave out the back door in a hurry.
Nothing was stolen except for our sense of security.
We now have active burglar alarms, and there are only two ways to enter the home, the front door and a sliding glass patio door. We always keep the front door locked and the patio door is locked plus a wood brace makes it impossible to enter from the outside. Still, the occasional downstairs noises can creep you out even when you are positive the doors are all secure.
One night it sure sounded like our front door was opened, and there were footsteps in the downstairs hallway. Mrs. C was concerned.
“Did you lock the front door?”
“It’s fine; it’s just noise from next door.”
“OK, but it is sure creepy.”
“I agree, but it is nothing…go to sleep.”
Just then there was a tremendous crash from downstairs. It wasn’t next door. It wasn’t a creepy floor squeak or house shifting noise, it was a crash, then a second crash, then silence.
“What the hell was that?”
I grabbed an old police Billy club a friend gave me years ago and got out of bed.
“CALL 911, I’M GOING TO CHECK IT OUT.”
“I’M DIALING RIGHT NOW!!”
“WHO EVER IS DOWN THERE, GET THE FUCK OUT NOW. I’VE GOT A PISTOL. I’M COMING DOWN IN TWO MINUTES. GET THE FUCK OUT NOW!”
“What are you going to do?”
“Shhh, do you hear anything?”
“I’m going downstairs.”
I crept down the stairs, club in hand, heart pounding. I heard nothing, there was no movement, no shadows, and nothing was moved. I turned down the hallway, TV police style. I slashed blindly with my club as I turned into the hallway; nothing. I checked the bathroom; nothing. Every room was clear. Then there was the pantry. It is large enough for a person to hide in. I slid silently up to the pantry door, and ripped it open with my club raised.
Cans fell out at me, cereal boxes were all over, the pantry was a mess.
Two weeks before I had installed new shelves in the pantry. Mrs. C told me the molly bolts I used were not big enough. I had told her she was crazy. For two weeks I was right. Tonight I was wrong, very, very wrong. The bolts had pulled out under the weight of one too many soup cans and had crashed heavily onto the shelf below which then succumbed to the extra weight of the fallen shelf and pulled loose on its own…hence the second crash.
The shelf failure was my fault. The mess was my fault. The ungodly scare was my fault. I felt like an idiot skulking around my downstairs calling out to a non- existent burglar and swinging wildly with my club.
Mrs. Cranky thought I was very brave.
Then referring to the molly bolts she said, “I told you so!”
Molly bolts? DOH! You've gotta hit a stud to hold that much weight.ReplyDelete
So, bottom line, does "brave" trump "I told you so"? :)
Ha.. and I was so sure you were going to encounter a raccoon (that was my subject of a blog post (three, actually) with the same title.ReplyDelete
So what were the initial sounds of opened door and footsteps before the crashes?
It's always somethin'.ReplyDelete
too dang funny! thanks, joe!ReplyDelete
My Mrs. C. knows better than to say "I told you so." If she did she'd be doing the job next time round.ReplyDelete
So glad it wasn't a real intruder! From now on, listen to Mrs. C. Appears she's a pretty sharp cookie!ReplyDelete
Is New Jersey always that exciting? Or is it just your house?ReplyDelete
She had a right to say that, you know!!ReplyDelete
I love molly bolts. In a pinch you don't even need a drill to get through the plasterboard.ReplyDelete
What a mess.
Good for you to go looking, shillelagh in hand.
Hi I'm river, came here via Pearl's. I'm glad it wasn't a real intruder, also glad it was soup cans and cereal boxes, not jars that would break and make a heck of a mess.ReplyDelete
It's like the time I heard a gunshot in my kitchen, then discovered a can of expired biscuits had exploded and cracked the interior of the refrigerator.ReplyDelete
LOL! Well at least it wasn't a robber ... or a poltergeist!ReplyDelete
Great story! At least for those of us that didn't need to clean up that kitchen.ReplyDelete
I also loved this: "For two weeks I was right." :DReplyDelete
Hilarious! I have always said that my house is haunted because of strange noises. We have a Chihuahua and she often drives me crazy walking around looking, growling and barking at stuff I can't see which just adds to it.ReplyDelete
find a stud man, never trust molly! she's hangin out there waiting to put you down.ReplyDelete