It was a cold, blustery day in the Midwest. A blanket of snow... no, that's too cliche... The ground was covered in six inches of "partly cloudy". With Junior tucked in for a nap, I headed to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.
BANG! BANG, BANG!!
I danced and swore as silently as possible, now drenched in hot coffee after a sudden, oddly graceful, twitch of shock. The sound came again.
My brain pointed out that gunfire was out of the question. The sound was too flat; there was no riccochet.
Some jerk was whacking on the side of my house with a hammer! Probably those little hoodlums from the next neighborhood. I peeked out of the kitchen window and saw footprints leading to the house. A-hah! I ducked into the mudroom, intent on learning the identity of the jerk in question. A look out of the window showed... nobody.
Okay, I don't care what the window shows, some incredibly rude vandal is beating on my siding. I pulled on my jacket and went outside for a confrontation.
The vandal darted to a nearby tree and stared at me in defiance. Face-to-face and now feeling rather foolish, I gave him a half-hearted scolding.
"Dude, could you keep it down? You're really loud."
The flicker scaled the tree and smirked at me from a high branch. I went back to my coffee.
Who did you meet this week?