The light in their
window stays on all night. I know nothing about them really,
except that they go to church (usually) with me and my parents.
I've observed during our moments together that they are old -
probably mid-70s, but that effect can be created with make-up -
and they hardly ever talk. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard
either of them speak.
They say that their
name is Witherson (or, at least, other people say that they say
that- they never actually "say" anything themselves). I don't
believe it for a second; nay, not even a milisecond.
I often will watch
that window from within my room. They live right across the
street from me, so espionage missions are actually quite simple.
I usually set my CD-player to the side and play my music quietly
as I watch. Mr. Witherson (although, as I explained earlier, this
is not his true identity) looks out that window all night.
Every once in a
while, when a car passes by (which is not very often, seeing as
how he only does his work at night- probably to avoid being
detected), he will disappear from his perch for a second. He
returns a minute later. I can't exactly see where he goes or what
he does, but I was able to put two-and-two together, and now it's
Mr. and Mrs.
Witherson (still going by that alias) are secretly Soviet spies.
When Mr. Witherson disappears from the window, that's when he
contacts his evil Soviet leader to detail the license-plate
numbers of the passing vehicles. They then add it to their top
secret government Intel database.
Mrs. Witherson, in
the meanwhile, sleeps. They take turns going through a strict
regimen. Mr. Witherson sleeps during the daylight hours, so as to
have the energy to take over car-duty all night long; Mrs.
Witherson stays up all day by the front door, turning away anyone
who might be wishing to contact Mr. Witherson.
They think they're
doing a good job covering their backs. But they don't know about
me. They're probably going through their agenda now, blissfully
unaware of my constantly growing knowledge regarding their
And now they have
finally made the last mistake. They have unwittingly placed their
king in a position that is three spots above and one spot to the
left of my knight. Or one spot above and three spots to the right
if you prefer. Definitely not three spots behind and one spot to
the left though - Even they wouldn't make that foolish of a
They have invited
my parents and me over for dinner (via written invitation - I
assume that they do not speak English).
I can imagine the
night already, with vivid clarity. My parents will walk in,
followed by myself, and we will proceed to place our coats and
jackets in the area that they say we are allowed to place our
coats and jackets. We will then be led to the dining room, where
they will have a traditional Soviet meal prepared for us, along
with three liters of Vodka for us to follow it down with.
I will sit and eat
perhaps half of the meal, taking careful precautions to make sure
it's not poisoned first, and then I will stand up and ask where
the bathroom is located. Upon being given directions (even if it
is just a casual hand gesture to the general direction of the
restroom, for remember, they do not speak) I will walk
Then, while they
are still eating and pretending to be interested in my parents'
discussion, I will silently steal into the basement, where I will
find their evil Soviet death-machine. I will take several
snapshots to label and send to police later. I will make sure to
point out to officials the parts of the device used for stealing
the souls of children and various household pets. If the switch
is easily-reachable (or plug, if they're aiming for a more
classic death-machine), I will shut off the device.
But perhaps that
will upset them. Perhaps the disabling of their machine will
disturb their senses, and they will rush downstairs to find me.
This is an obstacle that can be easily overcome. I will simply
use my kung-fu skills to defeat my Ruskie foes (I was a purple
belt in my eighth-grade martial arts class).
I will then gather
my parents together, I will explain what is happening, and we
will run outside. I will develop the photographs as soon as
possible, as my parents make sure the couple does not catch
After that, all
that will be left is the simple matter of taking the evidence to
the local law enforcement headquarters. The Withersons will be
sent to FBI prison (about 10 times as strict as regular prison).
I will be awarded the key to the city, and will proceed to bask
in the glory and adoration that follows suit. Maybe I'll even get
to sing the National Anthem at the Red Sox game. That would be so
I can hardly
contain all this excitement. My birthday was just last week, and
already 27 is turning out to be a good year. Best wishes.