I was home alone and
eating brownies for breakfast this morning when I heard a knock on the front window. When I walked to the front of the house to
check it out, there was nobody there. Strange. I decided to go back to enjoying my breakfast
of champions when the knocking sound happened again. I placed my brownie down on the kitchen counter
so I could get my hands in their proper karate chop position … and woe to any
intruder who’d dare to intend me harm. I
completed my crime scene investigation and, to my curious amazement, there was still
nobody there. Really spooky stuff ... am I
crazy? (please don’t answer that.)
So, I placed my hands behind my back, began to
whistle a carefree tune, and meandered my way back toward the kitchen. Suddenly, and without warning, I darted back behind the couch and prepared to await the next haunting sound of knocking. My heart seemed to pound through my chest as
the adrenalin pumped throughout my muscle bound body. (Hey, this is my story here and I’m sticking with
that muscle bound description.)
Sadly, it occurred to
me that I left my brownies helplessly unattended. Could someone or something be stealing my
brownies by creating a diversion on the other side of the house? If so, there’s no telling what kind of karate
chop rage I could be forced into. Using
a nearby potted plant as camouflage, I peered over the couch with a renewed and
determined focus. My wide eyed staring
contest with the front window had begun.
Not knowing what to expect, I patiently waited on high alert. During that time, I began to wonder how my
wife, Carrie, would be able to handle being thrust into a life as a single
mother of two young children that were barely in their twenties. I knew I had to stay alive ... for them of
course … and I could probably even benefit from staying alive too.
What seemed like a
lifetime was really only about a minute later when I saw an extremely malnourished,
bony, and nicely tanned finger tap the window once and then retreat. Do I scream?
What’s the number for 9-1-1? Wait
… was that a tan finger … in the Northwest?
The mystery was unraveling fast.
I placed the potted plant down and bravely walked toward the front window. Yep, it was just as I thought all along. It was only a harmless branch periodically
tapping the front window at the mercy of the wind’s demand. The threat of home invasion was over. I sent a text to Carrie and let her know that
she shouldn’t worry because I’m safe ... you know, in case she was wondering.
I was tempted to give
the branch a Karate chop, but I chose instead to return to my brownie feast. All that excitement made me hungry and, besides,
it's cold out there.
When I finish off the
brownies though, I plan to make a sign to put in the front window, “Karate
chopping accounting geek inside. Branches
beware.” I seriously doubt I’ll be
having anymore branch window taping problems ... that is, as long as branches
can read … or have fear … or … shoot, I think I’ll skip the sign and just focus
on eating the brownies. Because who
knows, someone could actually try to break in and steal them.
I better eat fast.
