 |
| I don't have the numbers right here in front of me but I think I read somewhere that between 100% and 200% of all murders happen in and around cellars. |
Growing up we had a root cellar that was underneath the empty house in front of our trailer. That is where murderers and kidnappers lived pretty much all the time.
Of course they had day jobs, so the cellar was perfectly safe when the sun was up. Come dark, they would scurry home to hide behind every dark corner and lie in wait. Just in case there were any eight-year-old boys that ordered to get a can of apricots from the basement.
The cellar trip was about a hundred feet and making it worse was that the outside garbage cans were about two-thirds of the way there. Every time I went past, there was a stray cat hanging around. When I turned the corner it would run off, in a blatant attempt to cause my already cautious heart to explode.
When I reached the cellar door it was vital, if I wanted to preserve any minuscule chance of survival, that I open the door as little as possible to reach my my arm in and turn on the light. Once the light was on, the killers vanished and I could get my canned goods without fear. Then I had to go back. I would reverse the process by almost shutting the door with me on the outside before shutting off the light and running full tilt to get back to the house before I captured by the forces of evil. While I was running back I would hold whatever canned good I was retrieving over my head in a high ready-kill position. In case someone did try and accost me I was coiled like a spring poised to attack.
Which is what I had to do one night when one of my dad's friends thought it would be funny to wait around the corner from the garbage cans and impersonate a murderer. I rounded the corner at top speed. He jumped out and yelled 'Boo!'. I bashed a jar of green beans down on his head, as per plan, and then hit him with them again while screaming and scrambling to safety.
The lesson here is clear; if you don't want your head cut up by a broken jar of home canned green beans don't go around pretending to be a devil worshiping, kid stealing, murderer in the dark. Simple as that.
