THAT House.

Yes.  Another Halloween post.  The catch is that this time I'm worried that neighborhood might be in jeopardy.  As the title of my blog suggests, we live in a run of the mill, average middle class neighborhood.  I feel completely comfortable going door-to-door trick-or-treating. . . .

Until we got to that house.  Only I didn't know it was that house until it was too late and the confused hermit was staring at my perfectly adorable three year-old.  The picture--random angel water fountain next to the front door, but without accompanying landscape or color of any kind.  A small square area blocked off next to the door with a homemade cardboard sign sporting chicken scratch with "deliveries here."  (Only later would I be suspect of why someone wanted their packages hidden, when the front porch wasn't especially visible from the street anyway. I think that's where bomb-making equipment might be delivered.) Back to the moment.  We knocked because, after all, the porch light was on.  The wall(s) of DVDs actually caught my eye before the person answering the door commanded my attention.  Average-sized Asian male with athletic shorts.  Not crazy or suspicious when considered alone.  But the tucked-in Garfield t-shirt with the athletic shorts pulled half-way to his armpits was cause for concern.  Square glasses straight from my grandfather's bedside table. . . in 1986.  The candy was in a metal pot.  And then, then, I noticed that the entire living area visible from the front door was covered by computer and electronic equipment.  And did I mention there was no welcoming smile or even a "you're welcome" to my three-year old's thank you? Creeptastic.

I didn't suspect there was a crazy internet crime mastermind was in my very.own.neighborhood.  And that is how that house became that house.  Its own unintended Halloween spectacle.