The woman at the counter read my name off my debit card, cocked her head a little to the side and then said, "You're that lady from the paper."
"It's a common name," I said.
"You spell it the same way," she said.
The girls were amused. Me? Not so much. I left them and returned home to my kitchen wasteland, and from there, to the bathroom, where I stumbled over a mountain of laundry.
(Question: How many towels does a teenage girl need when she showers? Answer: All of them.)
Now, these are good kids. Generally speaking, they sort of clean as they go. (Heavy emphasis on "sort of.") This time, however, the place was a wreck.
So a little score-settling seemed in order.
That they were at a scary movie made it easy.
I quickly assembled a lightweight body. Black hoodie, Styrofoam wig head. Attached it to a tightly strung cord hung at shoulder height between the back of the bedroom door and the wall, with another cord attached to the back of the hoodie head that made it jerk up and back when the door was shut.
When the door was shut -- and I knew they'd be shutting and locking the door -- the body would lurch forward.
For greater effect, I unscrewed the overhead bulbs so only the nightstand lights lit the room.
And then I waited.
And it was beautiful.
Reach Karin Fuller via email at karinful...@gmail.com.