The Attempted Getaways

This is actually a true story! In November of 2011--- Wait, why am I telling you this? If you want to find out, you'll have to read the story! Nothing is made up. This ACTUALLY HAPPENED, so don't think I'm exaggerating or trying to make it funny!

It is a bright November day in the early afternoon and my friends Ian and Noah are over at my house. We have been discussing possible things we could do for about fifteen minutes and we are completely and totally bored. Then I get an idea and it brings a smile to my face. Noah and Ian look at me expectantly and I ask, “Want to try out ding dong ditching?”

                  Ian, who is a bit of a wild child, yet can be quite like the cowardly lion, retorts, “But it’s broad daylight out here. How are we going to pull that off?”

                  With the smile still on my face, I say mischievously, “That’ll just make it all the more fun.” Noah has an evil smile on his face and Ian is still a little skeptical.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll try it.” Before he changes his mind, I go inside and find my mom.

                  When I ask her if we can go on with my idea, she says, “As long as you don’t do any old people’s houses, sure. But if you get caught and police bring you back home, I’ll pretend you aren’t my daughter.” She was cooking and as she was saying this, her eyes did not move from the dinner in progress and her facial expression did not give a hint of humor or fun. Is she joking? I think to myself. I shrug it off and go to my room so I can put on black jeans and a darker jacket. Blending in is even more vital in the daylight than at night.

                  I go back outside and Ian is wearing a bright blue sweatshirt that has even brighter colors on the front of it. I give him a look that says, “Really?”

                  “What?” he asks. “It’s the darkest sweatshirt I have!”

                  Noah lets out a small chuckle and says, “I’m guessing your closet is filled with white and neon orange, then.” Ian turns around and gives him a playful but dirty look. I roll my eyes, trying to look annoyed, but in all reality, I’m a little amused.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  I start walking down my street and say to them, “Come on! I want to get going!” Noah puts up his black and white checkered hood and jogs after me. Ian follows him hesitantly as if he were nervous, which he is. His eyes show that he does not want to go but will because he doesn’t want to ruin our fun.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  A few streets over from mine, we see the perfect house. It is about 150 feet away from Midstreams if situation were to go downhill. They also have a hedge that runs along the side of their house. And then, across the street, there is a small patch of shrubs that are completely bare. No leaves are covering any of the branches and they are so thin that you can see right through them. I take a mental note of not to go over there to hide.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  The yard looks well kept. I look over at the driveway to see what kinds of cars are parked. A brand new Nissan sits next to a small Toyota. It isn’t new, but it isn’t old by any stretch. If older people live in this house, I’ll be shocked.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  Now, before Ian is about to go ringing any doorbells, he looks at me and Noah and states, “I don’t want to do this one. You two go first and I’ll hide behind this tree until it’s time to run.” Before either of us even have time to reply, Ian turns and bolts away behind a small tree on the corner of their lawn.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"> I turn to Noah, look into his brown and amber eyes, and ask seriously, “How do you want to go about this?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">He looks at their door and replies, “Well, they have hand rails going up both sides of their stairs, so we can’t jump off of them once we ring the bell. Maybe if we go through the garden and behind the flowers, we can reach across and ring the doorbell that way.” I nod and have Noah lead. We quietly sneak past the leaves littering the back of the garden and we look at the door between the handrails. Only when I see our problem do I feel stupid and give Noah a dirty look.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  “You brought us to the wrong side of the door!” He looks at me and his ears and cheeks are a little red.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  “I thought we would be able to reach across no problem. The door didn’t look that big from back there.” He points to the area of the road we were standing at.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  I turn around and whisper, “Well, I’m going to the other side of the house where we can actually reach.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  <span style="font-size:11.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">He retorts, “Well, because I was so stupid, why didn’t you tell me that we should’ve gone over there in the first place?” I flinch, but not because of what he had just said. He did not shout by any means, but he wasn’t exactly quiet either.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  I turn back around and my pointer finger is up to my lips. “Noah, you have to be—”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  I am interrupted by the front door swinging open and by a bitter looking old lady sprinting out of her house screaming and shouting, “WHAT’RE YOU BOYS DOING ON MY PROPERTY?!” Wait, what did she just call me? Instantly, Noah bowls me over as he is on his mad dash to a spot where he could get away. I scramble to my feet, run out of their garden and turn the corner to make it look like I am running onto Midstreams. Then, on the last second I get, I dive behind the hedge and army crawl myself into a position where I hope the old lady cannot see me if she were to come looking for me.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  The next thing I hear is the door slam and a screaming match going down inside the house. I sigh in both amusement and exasperation, which I know is a weird combination. Two thoughts appear in my head: Don’t judge a book by it’s cover and things don’t always go as planned.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  Then the door swings back open and two pairs of footsteps come stomping down the steps and onto the grass. One tiny sentence makes my stomach turn to ice. “We see you back there.” My stubbornness leaves me unmoving. For some reason, I have a thought in the very back of my head saying, If you don’t move, they may think they are mistaken. I keep thinking that, even though I don’t really believe it. But of course they wouldn’t believe that! With my blonde hair and my pale skin that has been known to blind people when they look at me in direct sunlight, they would be fools to think that they were wrong!

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  The old lady takes a few steps forward to a spot where I can see her and her relic of a husband follows her. Comparing their facial expressions, it’s pretty obvious who wears the pants in the relationship. The husband looks quite timid and like he would bolt at the sound of a snapping twig while the wife was red with fury. They aren’t looking at me, though. Their gazes are glued to whatever is across the street in the shrubs.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  Trying to see what it is they are looking at, I follow their gazes. Standing in the middle of the shrubs is a big blue figure with one arm outstretched behind it and the other arm in front of it. One foot is outstretched as if it had just taken a giant step and it is looking directly at the couple. It is none other than Ian the Sasquatch.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  I moan and drop my head onto the back of my hands, which are laying palm down in the dirt. All I can think is, ''What an idiot. What an absolute idiot.''

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  <span style="font-size:11.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family: Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font:major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">“If you come out now, we won’t call the cops,” the wife says in her nasal voice. Ian drops his head and trudges out of the shrubs onto the grass in front of the husband and wife. “What were you and your friend doing on my property?” she screeches, even though he is only a foot away from them.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  He flinches. I don’t know if it is from her sudden outburst or the possibility of terrible breath. The husband merely stands behind his wife with his arms crossed, attempting to look angry and fierce. Angry? From the angle I’m at, maybe. Fierce? Definitely not.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  Not knowing what to do, his eyes dart over to me, still behind the hedge. I quickly start shaking my head. I’m not being dragged into that. Ian, it’s time to take one for the team. He sighs and doesn’t say anything. “If you don’t start talking, I can assure you that we’ll call the cops.” Thinking she is bluffing, Ian remains silent.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  The witch turns to her husband, nods, and orders him, “Harold, get the telephone.” Ian’s face turns extremely pale and he starts blurting out random noises to try and keep Harold from going inside. In mid-step, Harold stops and looks at Ian expectantly.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  “We were just ding-dong-ditching.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  Not a second after Ian finished his sentence, the wife shouts, “What’s ding-dong-ditchin’?!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  His eyes become as wide as the full moon looking down on this old lady. He breaths out a puff of air that made his cheeks both expand and smack back against his jaw all within a second of time. The look of total bafflement and exasperation almost makes me laugh out loud. When I stop myself, I make more of a snorting noise and pray to God that they didn’t hear me. Thankfully, they didn’t. I was not about to go out there with Ian.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  Ian starts, “Well, uh…” He then stops and starts again. A sarcastic smile materializes on his face and he replies, “Well, it’s when you go up to somebody’s door, ring the doorbell, and then you run.” 

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  “And there is no Big Foot involved in this?” she retorts back to his sarcasm. Ian just glares at her and she adds, “Well, go do it to somebody else.” She then calls him some, well, unpleasant things and she walks back inside with her husband following her closely.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  The door slams and I hear some things on the inside of the house rattle. Ian starts walking away and back towards my house. Noah jumps up from behind a truck a little farther down the road and jogs back to my house as well. But because I’m still right on their property, I wait a few extra minutes to make sure they aren’t watching through their windows to see if we would come back.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:major-latin">                  I get up off the dirt filled ground and pat it all off. “Well,” I say to myself. “That definitely didn’t go according to plan.”