The Incredibly True Tale of Spucko, Redzilla, the Mysterious Light Switch and the Phantom Visitor

All right, folks have called for a tale, and Redzilla has claimed to be a little fuzzy on the details, so here goes...

Once upon a time, in the summer of 1995, I was working third shift at the Kwik-E-Mart* in Manhattan, Kansas and also house-sitting for a friend on the outskirts of town.

My friend's place was this little white farmhouse, which could easily have served as setting for a film adaptation of In Cold Blood -- a bit isolated, surrounded by wheat and corn fields, and with an upper floor that was closed off (with a simple hook-and-eye latch) to save on heating and cooling.

I'd been staying there a week or so and had sorta-kinda figured out where everything was, but the wiring was wonky, so there were a few "mystery" light switches throughout the house - you know how old houses are. The wiring is often...provisional. Redz recalls the pearlescent pink sink and tub in the bathroom.

I recall the odd wiring and the (BONUS!) washer and dryer (FREE LAUNDRY!), as well as the peace and quiet (escape from my roommate). That and nice cool A/C was very conducive to daytime sleeping. Third shift was a pain; my days passed in a haze, and I hated having to go into work when everybody else was either playing or winding down for the evening.

So one night when I wasn't scheduled to work, Redz and I had been carousing in town. I dropped her off at her place in the wee hours and headed back to the little white farmhouse to crash. BUT...a light was shining in the mysterious upper floor, the upper floor which I had never gone up into since my friend had showed it to me before leaving town!

Da-dum, DUM-DUM-DUM-DUMMMMMM!!! (cue your own scary movie music here)

So...what to do? Call the cops? It could be nothing, and then I'd feel stupid. But walk into a house by myself at two in the morning to possibly confront a would-be burglar? No way.

I heard then the oft-repeated words of my friend Redzilla: "There's nothing like a shotgun for good home defense."

Redzilla owns firearms and knows how to use them. Plus I knew she was already up, since I'd just dropped her off. And really, she is the kind of friend whom you know you can call for help with whatever dumbass stunt in the middle of the night without fear of too much mockery.

So I went back to my house, called Redzilla, and she, her shotgun, and I repaired back to the In Cold Blood farmhouse on the lone prairie.

The light was still burning in the upper room.

We made as much noise as possible getting in the back door, in hopes that if someone was still there we'd give them enough warning to beat it out the front door.

No sound from inside. The latch on the door leading upstairs was still latched. We unlatched it, and Redz went first, leading with the shotgun barrel. "HOWDY!" she shouted as she started up the stairs.

Nothing there but the stuff my friend had stored up there before she left town.

We opened every closet, searched every room, and relaxed marginally, but I still couldn't figure out how that light got turned on...until my gaze fell on one of those mysterious light switches downstairs -- which had somehow gotten flipped up.

Ah.

I had been come back to the house well after daylight to sleep, so the damned light had probably been burning all week, and I just didn't see it until my day off.

I thanked Redz profusely, took her back to her house, and slept out the rest of the night and part of the morning in my own bed in my noisy apartment.

Thanks again, Redz.

* Name changed to avoid providing free advertising to the bastids.