The house next door to me is empty. Neighborhood gossip says that the previous owner died in it. I have no idea if that’s true or not.
It went on the market a while back and took forever to sell. It did, eventually, and the new owners have had a construction crew in for almost two weeks now.
I have yet to meet the new owners.
Today, while I was out gardening, an unmarked white van pulled up in front of the house. The following occurred.
The truck driver approached one of the workers. “Do you live here?”
“No, I work here.” The construction worker scratched his head. “Do you need something?”
“I’ve got a delivery. It’s got to get inside, out of the sun. Can you move your truck?”
The construction worker turned. “Boss, he needs you to move your truck.”
At that point, a large – like, six foot long, four foot high crate… not box, crate… was lowered out of the truck. The truck driver started looking a little agitated. “Seriously. We got to get this inside.”
I turned to my significant other. “Honey, we got ourselves a vampire for a neighbor.”
My significant other, a sweet man, but not up on his vampire lore, shook his head. “It’s a couch.”
“Do couches have to get out of the sun?” I pointed at the crate. “Do they come crated?”
“It’s not a vampire.”
“You don’t know that.” I threw down my hoe and grabbed the car keys. “I’ll get the garlic. Carve a few stakes while I’m gone.”
“Maybe it’s a nice vampire,” he shouted after me. “You know, like, Vampire Blogs, or what that show was you used to watch.”
Vampire Blogs? I don’t even know. “Carve the stakes.” I checked the time. Still a few hours before sunset. Behind me, my S.O. had gone back to gardening.
Why am I the one who has to do the saving?