Childs play

"I really need you to stop it.  I'm having a long day.  No one can play with me, Moms shopping, my Dad is working in the yard, my brother is a jerk & I'm bored."

"No really...you need to stop scaring me, that's not nice.  I'm going to be mad at you if you don't stop."

I often found myself having conversations like this in my house off Pleasant Grove Rd.  One day I was just...not having it.  Life was unfair!  I couldn't play with my friend, my stupid brother was visiting & I was stuck...at home...AGGGHH!  So hard to be a child!

I stormed down stairs after my doofus brother kicked me out of the bathroom.  Hey, it had good acoustics & I needed to perfect Barbara Streisand's Queen Bee...just...because!  Whatever fart face!  Stomp, stomp, stomp...down the stairs.  Flinging myself down onto the yellow couch I seethed & pouted & lamented.

"Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeek."  The closet door behind me slowly opened a crack.  It never took much to have it creeeeek.  You turn the knob...creeeeeek.  A slight pull....... creeeeeek.  The sound of the door was horrible.  No matter how much my Dad WD40-ed it....it would always creeeeek! The door was a heavy solid wood door with an old glass knob.  It was to a closet that was tucked under the stairs.  Pretty cool hiding place.

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek open...creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek close. 
"creeeeeeeeeeek"            Stop it!
'Creeeeeeeeeeek"            I said STOP!
"Creeeeeeeeeek"            FRED!  AGGGHHHH!

I started to joke to my Dad about the ghost in the house.  He'd laugh & never take me seriously.  He told me as he ruffled my permed hair "Oh...it's just Old Fred.  Just say Hi & he'll leave you alone.  He's just lonely."    He did a fine job about teasing me...but I knew he was just messing around like Dad's do.  Little did I know...the poor guy was doing his best not to tell his daughter "yeah kid....seriously, this house is jacked up! He's watching you.  Run kid RUNNN!"

"Creeeeeeeeek"  ALRIGHT!  I'll play with you but the door has got to stop!

I heard my smelly brother stomping around upstairs yelling for me.  Something about his toothbrush...that I may or may not have rubbed on top of his nasty B.O. stick.

Sensing my own doom at the hands of my cracked out bro I dove into the closet.  The closet went all the way back under the stairs.  The space above my head just got smaller & smaller as I crawled under my Moms fur coats.  I finally wedged myself deep in the bowels of my cave.  As my brother pounded down the stairs grumbling, I watched the light fade as Fred closed the door.  "creeeeeeeeeeeeeek."

"Hey brat...you think I'm stupid!  I could hear the damn door all the way upstairs!  I know you are in there!  Come out or I'll go in after you!"

Gah!  I hate my brother!  I covered my self w/ winter shoes & scarves stored for the winter season & waited.  Doing my best not to laugh & cry.

"Fine!  I'm coming in!"

Try as he might....my brother could not open the door.  I could here him struggle & hit the door w/ his fist.  The old 50 lb door didn't budge.

"Hey twerp, the doors stuck.  You'll be in there all day by yourself!  Dad's out side & he'll never hear you scream. Have fun punk, I'm out of here!"

Exit poop head brother.

I laid under the shoes, in the pitch black slightly panicked.  All I could think about was how was I going to pee?  I had no problem hanging out in the closet, but to pee?  yeah...this would be a problem!

No sooner had I thought that...the door clicked and

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek

A little sliver of sunlight peeped in through the door.

I crawled out from under the tangle of hanging coats & out through the door.

My brother no where to be seen, my 9 year old life spared.

"Thanks Fred!  That was fun! I'll see you later!"

Out of the house I ran, to play with my ducks.

And somewhere in the house, I knew Fred would be waiting for me to come back & play.