I could feel someone watching me as I moved slowly across the dew dampened yard. I had to step lightly so as not to leave a trail. My size nines left a heavy impression in the stiff white grass, but if I wasn't careful I might as well have been leaving a path of lucky charms for that little leprechaun.
By leprechaun, I don't mean he was Irish, I mean he was short with bad hair and a funny hat.
What led up to this you ask? Well, let me tell you a story.
A story you won't soon forget. Oh, you'll want to forget it alright, who wouldn't? The question is more who couldn't and that, that my dear friend would be me.
I'm the one who couldn't forget. Not even if I wanted to.
Sit back and let me tell you how it happened.
It was a dark and stormy night. The wind was blowing like a gust from the north up your Aunt Bertha's skirt. Oh, it wasn't pretty. It wasn't pretty at all.
It was as though someone was watching my every move as I sprinted across the driveway being careful not to trip over the neighbor child's entrapment's left laying about.
I never did care for that red headed pest as he always left pastries and toys in my path.
It didn't seem to matter how many times I confronted his mother, she never showed more concern than a drunken Irish Betty, and it wasn't just because her name was Betty. It was because she was short with bad hair and was usually drunk.
This story is starting to leave me squeamish, and I don't know if it's wise to continue this tale, so as the sky grows dark and the wind picks up, I think that it's best if I go.
I'm sensing that someone is watching...
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