One Monday evening in the fall, I was sauntering down the street to the convenience store when I happened to glance in the front window of the Ferguson’s house. Inside the dark living room, I could see the big color television was tuned into “The X-Files.” I knew Bobby who lived there and he loved that show and was a big David Duchovny fan. He liked to fancy himself as being like Agent Mulder. I personally was more partial to Dana Scully, his partner, because she was a skeptic by nature, which was a lot closer to how I viewed life. I wanted facts. I was not inclined to look at every photo of a paper plate thrown in the air and assume it was a flying saucer.

I stopped for a minute to watch the show through the window. This was one of the best and most controversial episodes about a houseful of mutants who were inbred. I liked the show mainly because the mutants had a jacked-up Cadillac convertible they drove around at night when they went off to perform one of their dirty deeds. That car was so cool, I would have killed to have one like it. Instead, I was on foot with no car and no prospects of getting one. After all, as my dad loved to point out, I was going nowhere fast.

As I was standing there waiting to see that cool ride again, something flashed outside the house on the left side. The Ferguson’s had a Dutch Colonel with bay windows and a screened end porch on the left and the flash seemed to come from the porch. It was odd enough to spark my curiosity. Maybe Bobby was out there smoking a cigarette or doing something else that required the striking of a match or the flicking of a lighter. It was that kind of flash. Small, but distinctive. I decided to duck down along the hedges and sneak over and see.

When I crept up to the screened-in porch and peered in, the flash happened again. A short and quick flicker of light that illuminated something that made me jump back in surprise. The face that had shone in the light didn’t look human. It was misshapen with a bulbous head and two black shiny eyes. The ears were tiny, barely there, and the mouth of the creature had sharp pointed teeth that literally glistened in that flash of light. The smell of cigar smoke wafted from the porch and I was shocked to realize that this misshapen hulk was actually smoking a fat cigar while leaning back on the glider.

The night air was cool and the stars were shining but I was drenched in sweat. I slowly backed up as quietly as I could, then ducked down and ran as fast as I could back home. Forget the convenience store, I needed to feel the safety of my house and to see my dad who was annoying, but a normal guy sitting on our porch in his flannel shirt and jeans.  

“Back so soon?” he said as I jerked open the door.

“Yeah,” I said. “I need to study. I’ve got to figure out how to get out of this town.”