Maybe Sometime Today

Ah, the shower feels good and refreshing . This hangover ain't so bad. I'll be fine to make it down to the bank today. Shit yeah. I just get finished rinsing my hair when I hear the loudest most persistent, "Let me the Fuck in" kind of KNOCKING I've ever heard. I immediately shut the water off. Glad I was finished. It must be the cops, who the hell else would knock like that? But why would the cops be at my house in the middle of the day? I figure being the modest guy I am, and them being so rude and all, that I'd meet them dripping wet and dangling in all my glory. We'll see how they like that. I walk down the hall way wiping water out of my eyes, take a deep breath to prepare for what, I don't know, but something on the other side of that door is going to be damn interesting I bet. I can't remember the last time I got to greet someone butt naked. I quickly notice that Kip has already left, and he at least swept up the large mess he made into a neat little pile. The knocking suddenly stopped. I hurry to unlock the door and get it open. I swing it open and much to my surprise there not a god damn person on my porch. Again! What the ? I step out onto the porch and walk out the edge of just before the first step down and look every direction. I'm kinda hoping Mrs. Nozee is watching. I'd love for her to get a good eye full of this. She'd most likely faint before she could ever make it to the phone to call the police. I laugh. But not for long. I'm jolted back to why I'm out here in the first place. Man, I know I heard a knocking. I'm sure of it. It was a loud clear, fierce banging on wood. Unmistakable sound. I slowly make my way back inside, still scanning the perimeter for would be knockers. (and not Mrs. Nozee's neither) Nothing. Notta. No freaking Body. This is starting to creep me out. Alot. I already need a drink. But, even I can't drink all day. Ok then, think. Ok. Go dry off and put some clothes on and think while you're doing that. Ok? Ok.

I thought and thought, and the only explanation for the two mysterious knockings could only be from a few scenarios. One; rascally neighborhood kids pulling shenanigans, possibly some of Zack's friends. That I seriously doubt. I know them all, and they're all good natured kids, a little ornery yes, but not to do something like this. Two; I'm going crazy and I'm hearing things. That's a good possibilty. With the pills and my rigorous drinking exercises, going nuts is definitely not to be ruled out. Or three; my wife's ghost or a ghost/spirit is trying to tell me something, or it's simply just doing it's job at haunting and spooking the shit out of people. That's the one I'm leaning closest to at the moment.

I slap on a little aftershave and look deep into my own eyes staring back at me in the mirror. Pull yourself together man. You have to. You can do this. Be strong. I slam both fists down hard on the countertop and let out a loud growl. (stupid manly thing I do, for no real reason, but it seems to work occasionally) I walk to the kitchen and pick up the phone and dial a somewhat familar number. I ask if Mr. Matthews is in today and if I may speak with him. He's there and is available to see me today a 3:30. Perfect. I run out and hop into my old army green colored '76 Scout II, pop Pearl Jam into the CD player and rumble down the road to see my old man, and my boys.