Mother awoke to the chilling realization that someone trying to break in the house. “Bill! Bill! Wake up Bill! Someone’s trying to get in!!” Daddy didn’t normally sleep: he went into a coma, but adrenaline jolted him into action. He grabbed his loaded shotgun and crept to the window. In the darkness, a tiny light glowed in the darkness of the front porch. It wasn’t just Mother’s imagination! Someone was trying to get in!
Assuming a defensive position at the window, he cocked the hammer, took aim at the tiny light in the dark, and whispered hoarsely to Mother, ” When I tell you, switch on the outside light so I can get a bead on him.” Mother was poised directly behind Daddy, clutching his muscular arm for support. He gestured toward the switch. Forcing herself to be calm, she slipped into position, prepared to flip the switch at his command. Their pulses raced, tension building as they steeled themselves to defend home and family. There were two switches side by side, one to their bedroom; the other to the porch. At his word, she flipped the inside switch! The blinding bedroom light showcased in her skimpies and Daddy in his underwear, crouched in the window with the shotgun trained on the dark intruder. Daddy swore and dropped out of view, the advantage lost!
The next thing they heard was hysterical laughter, not maniacal, just hysterical. Daddy’s brother had come by after they’d gone to bed and wanted to spend the night. They didn’t have a phone, so he had been beating on the door for half an hour trying to wake them. Fatigued with pounding, he’d finally squatted near the front door for a cigarette break before trying again. The only threat was to their dignity, not their lives.