One day, as I was driving into my carport, I had an interesting thing happen to me! It was the most bizarre, yet amazing thing you could ever think to hear about, and so unbelievable that it would bring tears of never ending laughter to your physique had you gone through it yourself! Especially if you were on the receiving end of this astonishing anecdote. But I will get to how I ended up in that driveway shortly. First thing’s first . . . what lead up to that moment.
There are days when I really have to wonder what blows through people’s psyche when it comes to anything remotely supernatural and the hatred of a quiet neighbor. It all began at the end of last year, when we had an unseasonal warm front move in, and the temperature soared. My dog was in the front yard, doing whatever doggie things, and thinking whatever doggie thoughts that dogs think when they are in their own domain. I was exiting my doorway with leash in hand to bring him in from the heat, when all of the sudden who rolls up? Non other than our friendly neighorhood Animal Control guy!
“Howdy,” he says to me as he exits his official white doggie-prison Paddy Wagon. “What can I do for you?” I replied to him, as I arched an eyebrow quizzically at him, swinging the leash in my hand. He walked over to my fence, and looked in at my dog, who greeted the stranger with a goofy doggie grin. The animal dude turned his head to me, and smiled politely. “Nice dog,” he said as he tapped a gentle pat to my pooch’s head. “We got an anonymous call that, well, your dog doesn’t have any shelter, shade, food, or water,” he scratched his head in confusion as he surveyed the yard, “but clearly, whoever called this in wasn’t paying attention.” Both eyebrows shot a direct blow to my hairline as what he told me sunk in! “Well yeeeaaaahhh, they weren’t paying attention,” I pointed to the doghouse in the yard, “He even has air conditioning! I was just taking him in for the day because it’s too warm even for outside A/C.”
The nice Pooch Patrol guy called into his office, murmuring a few words into his broadband radio, then he turned to me as I was opening the gate to get my beloved pup. “I’m sorry to bother you ma’am. I just called in and let the dispatch know that this was a false call, and nothing is out of place. Have a nice day.” With a nod, he climbed into his rig, and drove off into the early afternoon ever-after. I shook my head, and took my furball into the house, relaying the odd occurance to my husband. “It was probably just a mistake,” he said as he hugged me tightly. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” I nodded, “You’re right, but I do want to get to the bottom of this,” I sighed. “There are still people here who think I’m out to curse them and put them on a permanant fly diet in their new lilly pad condo!” My husband just so happened to be taking a drink of water at the moment I made that statement. Needless to say, he nearly drowned himself laughing.
Yep. There are people who think I will turn them into a toad! Did I forget to mention that I am Wiccan? I was almost evicted a few years ago for flying over the complex on a broomstick! I just hope someone, somewhere, managed to take a picture or catch me on a survellance video! I, for one, would like to see that!
And, here we are, in the beginning of August. Cut to . . . eleven days ago.
It had been hot, and I mean HOT, for the past few weeks. Temperatures easily soaring to brimstone melting, hell on earth status! Needless to say, an outdoor air conditioner would probably just blow up had I been trying to use it unless it was necessary. So I had been bringing my silly big hulk of a canine into the house during the day, every day. I just so happened to be taking him for a whiz walk, when who pulls up? The Pooch Patrol . . . again. The animal dude gets out of his wagon . . . again. He looks at myself and my dog . . . again. “Uh. Yeah.” He stammered a few words before finally getting to the meat of the visit. What do you know? The complaint was the same as the LAST visit! Verbatim. Know what else? The caller remained anonymous . . . again! “I apologize for bothering you with this encore presentation. I’m going to call this into dispatch as a false alarm . . . again.” Although frustrated, I felt for him and having to come out on this call once more. “No problem. Any idea who it was this time?” I inquired, knowing that if a name was left, he would legally be required to give it to me for my records. “I’m sorry, but no. They didn’t leave their name. Have a good day.” As he drove off this time, my mind began to crawl with possibilities regarding the identity of this unknown caller.
After the first call, I was fairly certain I knew which neighbor it was. When I confronted her about it, she confessed to me that yes, she was the one who called. I told her all she had to do when she’s wondering about my dog, is come ask me. She promised that if she ever had more concerns, she would knock on the door and ask me in person, rather than adding to my pup’s rap sheet in the future. So as you can imagine, when this second visit came, I was extremely puzzled. I assumed this had to have come from the same person, due to the carbon copy dialogue of the complaints. But why would she have called without leaving a name this time, knowing I would recognize the grievance? That’s what was baffling me that most. It just didn’t fit!
This brings me to my carport, and the bizzare happenings afterwards!
I had left for work a few hours earlier. I was happy that I was only working a three hour day, and was whistling to myself when I brought my dog in before leaving. My husband kissed me as I left the house, and off I went. I had a fun day working with kids, so naturally when I was driving home, I was in a wonderful mood. However, just as I was pulling into the carport, the familiar white Animal Control wagon pulled up to the curb behind my car. I was mystified by his presence this time, knowing my pup hadn’t even been outside, with the exception of course, of having to pee on his favorite tree.
As I was exiting my vehicle, the Pooch Patrolman must have seen the rainbow of emotions and thoughts flashing across my face. Not knowing what to expect from me, he approached slowly and nodded. “Hello ma’am,” he said quietly. “Yeah, hi.” I replied swiftly. “What’s the problem officer?” The animal dude gave a small smile. “You’ll never guess, not in a million years,” he joked. “Let me guess,” I sighed, “The dog has no food or water, no shade or shelter, and it’s hot out. Am I close?” The animal guy chuckled, “I hate to say it, but yes.” I laughed as well. “You see, this time I know someone is messing with me, because the dog hasn’t even been outside today!” I shook my head in disbelief, small giggles escaping my lips. “That’s exactly what I am reporting to dispatch, and that will put you on a non-report list from here on out. Should take care of your human pest problem, since the ONLY way we’ll come out is if a police officer calls and sends us.” He nodded to me. “Have a nice day!” He climbed into the white wagon, still amused at this final call. “Thank the Gods I don’t have to deal with that anymore,” I said to myself.
Naturally, I spoke too soon. Just as I was turning to walk back through the carport to get to my door, our complex security guard, Jim, pulled up. Luckily, he is a good friend of mine. “Hey! What’s going on over here? I just saw the Animal Control leaving. Everything OK?” He asked me. “Well, I think so. At least now it is.” I relayed the entire story to him, as he sat on the hood of his car smoking a Marlboro, hanging onto my every word. As I finished, it occurred to me that this was an odd time for him to be dropping by for a chat, since he wasn’t on duty yet. “Well,” he blew out a smokey cloud, “I’m afraid your problems haven’t ended there. It’s why I came by, actually.” I cocked my head at him and asked in an unsure tone, “Whaaaat’s wrong?”
If you thought the Animal Control calls and the attempted eviction was weird . . WOW . . get a load of this! As I was listening to the complaint that came into the complex office, and that they were taking this seriously enough to have our security guy check up on it before they took any action, I was completely, unequivocally, dumbfounded! Yes, indeed, this takes the cake. My jaw was scraping the sidewalk as I was listening to how someone accused me of keeping my children malnourished because I am really a vampire, and was secretly drinking my kid’s blood! “WHAT?!?!” I screamed out in a mixture of horror, surprise, and admittedly some amusement. When one bears witness to the incarnate manifestation of the absurd, one’s eyeballs tend to eject from their sockets, as I’m sure mine did at that moment. My security friend was half-way doubled over laughing, as I was trying to search for something to say that could even come close to what my mind was trying to wrap around. I looked at him dubiously. “OK, laugh it up, chuckles. Really funny! I mean, I could see them saying I was conjuring things, but what would give them the slightest idea that I might be a vampire? It’s got to be a joke.” Wiping a tear from his eye from laughter, he let me know that it was in fact true.
“Think about it,” he told me. “You are rarely seen during daylight hours, your daughters are slight little things, you seem to never get sick . . . ” The corner of his mustached lips quirked. “Need I go on? You know how these people are here. They’re bound in superstitions, and have nothing better to do than let their imaginations run away with them.” I huffed, thanked Jim for the information, and stomped into the house. My hubby raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me. “What was that all about?” I was wringing my hands and clenching my fists, barely containing my anger at the situation. A witch, yes. But a bloodsucking vampire who apparently feeds off of her kids like they were nothing more than pixie stix with feet? Now THAT was another matter altogether. “Goddess help me, honey. If I ever get a good spell to toss on the people in this complex, I’ll turn the whole lot of ‘em into earthworms!” I turned on my heel and stormed back out to the yard.
I sat on my porch steps, and lit a Misty Light 120. Taking a deep pull of the soothing nicotine to calm my nerves, I started to question the sanity of everyone around me. Food. Really?? Huh. I blew out a few smoke rings, and noticed my Godson strolling up the sidewalk. “Hey Kris!” he hollered to me, waving. “Hey Shawn,” I returned the greeting. He stopped quickly at my tone, noting that something was wrong by the dismissive manner in which I waved. “Uhh, ‘sup?” He tilted his head. I told him about the Pooch Patrol visits, and that now I am apparently a child-sucking night creature with her own food farm! “Wanna go for a walk with me?” He shrugged, “Sure, let’s go!” He fell into step beside me, with the hip-hop swagger that he was famous for. We talked for a while, until we reached the end of the street, and began to turn onto the next. It was, in fact, at this point that I completely lost control of my anger.
I began to run through the streets of the complex, waving my arms like an escaped lunatic. I am sure some of the neighbors were thinking I was going to have to be institutionalized by the end of the night. Then I began to yell. Loudly.
“I AM NOT A VAMPIRE, YOU DOUCHEBAG!!!!!” Shawn quite literally fell over, laughing until he was almost puking, and my husband having heard the yelling, ran out of the house and down the street to see what the ruckus was. “I AM NOT A VAMPIRE, YOU DOUCHEBAG!!!” I yelled again, drawing baffled neighbors out to their front porches. By this time, I had drawn a crowd to the streets as I kept running, yelling, waving, and just giving into the idiotic insanity of the surrounding people. Some of the neighbors were dying of laughter, some actually looked terrified of me as they witnessed the scene unfolding around them! “I AM NOT A VAMPIRE, YOU DOUCHEBAG!!!”
Then I stopped. I stood there, surrounded by friends and neighbors who were convinced by now that I had gone completely mad. I looked at them, and they looked at me. Then the person who started this madness in the first place, quietly started to slink away from the back of the crowd. I watched her go, and my husband whispered in my ear, “What was that all about?” I smiled with my small victory, and turned to kiss him. “I think I just made my point. Let’s go home.” He put his arm around my shoulders, and that’s just what we did. We went home.