A bright sun hangs in a crystal blue sky with the slightest wisps of white stretching out like fingers holding heaven in place.
A lite breeze blows salt air from the ocean and Fran's thousand shades of green shimmy ever so slightly. Birds sing hymns of glory from the branches of palm trees. Squirrels play chase on the wooden fence. Goddess lays at my bare feet as I marvel at the sheer beauty of this day.
It changes in an instant.
"HERE KITTY! KITTY! KITTY!" screeches a horrible voice sounding like long fingernails scraping over a blackboard.
I jump straight up in the deck chair and pee my black running shorts a little. Goddess bolts inside. The birds fly away and the squirrels hide behind trees. Even the white finger like clouds disappear while a black one appears from nowhere blocking the sun.
"HERE KITTY! KITTY! KITTY!" she screeches again as my butt slams back into the chair.
Standing on her deck wearing a dirty pink terry cloth bathrobe, fuzzy yellow slippers with a blue towel wrapped high on her head she looks like Marge Simpson on meth.
A hundred black feral cats respond to her commands as though a gathering of Witches Covens. Her yard is a dark forest, the house is moldy and even the seashells decorating her porch are black. Snakes slither around her carport which is filled with bottles and canisters surely containing ingredients for her potions.
"HERE KITTY, KI ... oh, Good Morning Mike," she hisses.
Where's my freaking Guardian Angel when I need her?
In every life there is darkness. Things go bump in the night. Scary dreams sometimes come true. Hurt slams into hearts and hate eclipses love. People do mean things, others counted on leave and fires are lit to burn out happiness. Cats moan, lightening flashes, thunder rolls and there is hell on earth.
"Morning," I reply trying to not look at her.
"What are you and Sarah doing for Halloween?"
"Hmmmm ... not sure yet," I mumble.
"Me neither," she screeches.
"HERE KITTY! KITTY! KITTY!" and my skin crawls.
Strolling inside Sarah is frantically trying to calm Goddess and Winston, the Little Gay Dog, down from being traumatized.
"Hey," I say ignoring her efforts, "do we have any blue towels? Don't the girls have pink bathrobes?"
"Yes," she answers. "Why?"
"I know what we going to be for Halloween."
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