Our Neighbor, The Bride of Frankenstein

"Can I have your pumpkins when you're finished with them if they are still viable," read the note taped to the front door, "I will even bring you a treat back."

We'd been away for several days so we had no idea how old the note was.

A week earlier we'd carved pumpkins, placing them in the front yard with six different facial expressions cut, some menacing and others goofy. One was smoking a giant "Doobie".

The note was from our neighbor, the crazy woman who gardens in her underwear.

Before you jump to any conclusions, this is not a pretty sight!

Nevertheless she strolls outside, wavy white hair blowing in the wind, wearing a dirty white bra and granny panties, happily singing to prune her garden. She's a fatter version of the Bride of Frankenstein.

Birds flee, dogs moan, doors are locked and even the Cat Lady's feral cats hide. Winston, the Little Gay Dog, darts to his pad under our bed and Goddess lays in the floor covering her head with her paws. Sarah frantically tries to cover the girls eyes as they try to look. I throw up a little in my mouth.

Throwing the note on the table we unpack and get on with our day.

Later it looks like rain and the dogs haven't had a walk so I hurry and take them. Just as mist turns to light rain, we return home and I look at the pumpkins.

One's completely caved in one itself. A few are black and a couple are moldy so I grab the trash can and throw them inside and hurry to make my way inside.

"Why did you do that?" I hear just as I open the door.

Turning, the fat Bride of Frankenstein stares at me from under an umbrella, wearing the dirty white bra and granny panties, white hair askew as though she's just been hit by a bolt of lightening.

"They were melted from the sun," I explain trying not to look.

"THERE IS NO SUN," she yells.

Shrugging my shoulders, I turn to walk away.

"WHAT ABOUT MY PIES?" she demands.

"What's going on?" Sarah asks, suddenly appearing from nowhere.

Stopping dead in my tracks, the hair on my neck stands straight up. The air is suddenly sucked out of the entire block. There isn't a sound. Goddess and Winston, the Little Gay Dog, rush down and stand on either side of me.

We know ... this was going to be bad ... and they don't want to miss any of it!

"YOUR HUSBAND JUST LIED TO ME AND TOLD ME THOSE PUMPKINS MELTED IN THE SUN ..." the fat Bride of Frankenstein starts.

I've never heard a nuclear explosion so I don't really know. But I imagine it sounds something like what happened next.

The fat Bride of Frankenstein stops talking because she sees it coming. Goddess and Winston, the Little Gay Dog, turn their heads just in the nick of time. Sarah's girls rush outside to watch.

KLA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Sarah explodes and there's this flash of white light.

When I open my eyes the fat Bride of Frankenstein is gone.

The sky's blue, the sun shinning, birds sing and I swear to God Angels are singing with them.

Sarah stands before me as beautiful as ever with Goddess and Winston, the Little Gay Dog, standing beside her. Sarah's girls are cheering.

"Don't worry Honey," she sweetly says, "I took care of it."

Rushing inside, I pour a glass of wine, gulp it down and pour another. Frantically, I search for the "To-Do" list that my wife had given me several days earlier, find it and start knocking things off of it with frightening speed.

"HOLY SHIT!" I keep saying.

"I didn't know she could do that!"

So who are you in this story?
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♦ “Derrick disappeared for like 2 HOURS last night when your book came in the mail!”- Michelle Hodge

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