You've been Boo'd

Is there a "scrooge" character for holidays in general?  If not, I'd like to apply for the position.

We received a knock on the door at the end of last week.  Actually, I didn't even hear the knock.  I had my hands in hot sudsy water, dreaming of a bedtime that couldn't come quickly enough, when my little dude comes running into the kitchen to say someone had knocked on the door. 

"Okay, okay," I told him, not particularly hurrying.  After all, people knocking at the door without an appointment are more problematic to me than telemarketers.  They generally want something I don't want to give: time, magazine subscriptions, religious conversations, etc.  And I'm not as comfortable slamming the door as I am slamming the phone (I imagine one day I will be, though).

So as I'm walking to the door, I hear another knock, and now I'm thinking the person on the other side of the door is either about to have a baby and needs a room at the inn, or they're really PUSHY.  I open the door with what I can only assume is a really put-out expression (my face hides no emotions) only to find that no one is there.  I should have been relieved; however, I look down to find that someone has left a Halloween package on my door with a note that says, "Boo!"

As I read the note, it says now I'm obligated to "Boo" two of my neighbors. 

"Great!" I think to myself.  "Now I have to spend time and money to put out two of my neighbors.  That stinks!  Although I'd hate to do this to someone I don't know, I like the people I've met and I'd hate to make them feel obligated to do it.  If I do nothing, I'll just feel like a schmuck, plus my little man here is jumping up and down like a hot potato, so I can't exactly hide it and pretend it never happened.  DANG!"

After several days of avoiding this, last night, Little Dude and I entered the chilly night air to fulfill our part of this ridiculous obligation. 

We arrived at the first house: someone I don't particularly know, but they have five children of various ages ranging from 5 to 17 (and not even Mormon) so I thought the chances of someone enjoying it would be highest.

As we walked to their house, I felt really uncomfortable.  I thought, "I'm going to knock and run with possibly THE worst hider in the world.  This can't end well.  We've gone over the plan several times: he will get everything set on the porch first, then knock LOUDLY and run as fast as he can to the end of their walkway to hide behind the shrubs where I'll be waiting." 

To make a short story quite long, we walk to the house and realize there's a gate.  A gate!  I try to convince my co-conspirator that this is a tactical nightmare and that we should switch houses.  He won't hear of it.  After what was really too much discussion for such a simple task, we slowly approach the gate (crunching on fallen leaves the whole way), he places the package and "Boo" paper, and I get into position behind the shrub.  He knocks faintly and RUNS to meet me behind the shrub.

And then he starts talking to me.  I mean EVERYTHING in his little head comes spewing out of his mouth:

"This is awesome.  Shh!  Do you think they heard it?  Are they coming?  Shh!  Oh!  I think I see someone.  Oh, it was a cat.  Shhh!  Should I go knock again?  This is so awesome!  We should do this every night.  Shhh!  Oh!  There's someone by the door.  Why are they not opening the door.  They keep looking out.  Oh, look.  Shhh!  There are more people looking out windows.  Hee hee!  This is SO awesome!  Shhhh!  etc."

Finally, someone opens the door and sees the package left on the porch, and they say, "Dang it!  Does this mean we have to do this to other people?" 

"My thoughts exactly!" I think to myself. 

A younger brother comes to the door and says, "Thank you!" to the night, to which the older brother says, "Whoever did this is long gone.  They're note stupid. I've been watching out the window for a while, and whoever did this has to be gone."

Nope.  We're the idiots who stick around.

Finally, they close the door and we wait for a few minutes so they don't see the losers still hiding.  Then we book it across the street to do number two (house number two, that is) and get this dumb thing done once and for all.

So we run across the street (with squeals of delight from my partner in crime), and it's decided (not by me) that I will be the one to leave the goodies on the porch, knock, and run this time.  So we decide where the hideout will be at the next house, and it's decided that the best place is just around the side of the house.  No lights, not too far from the porch, and we can see when someone opens the door.  Perfect!

I place the goodies, knock VERY loudly, and run to meet my giddy guy.  Again, he can't contain his excitement and he repeats his verbal diarrhea from the previous location (except without the comment about the cat). 

"Shh!  You're totally missing the point of hiding!" I tell him.

But no one comes to the door. 

After about three minutes (which felt like 50 to both of us), he says, "Maybe they're not home.  I should go knock again."  And he does.  Very quietly.

Another three minutes pass.  Still no one.

"I'll go knock again."

Another quiet knock, and another three minutes.  Then the lights come on, but still no one comes to the door.

"Maybe I should knock loudly."  And he does.

Finally, the mom comes to the door, but he only opens the little metal "peek-a-boo" door--you know, the one where you can only see an adult standing right in front of you--and says, "Hello?  Is someone there?"  pause   "Hello?  Who's out there?" 

Silence.

Then she shuts the little peek-a-boo door...

...AND OPENS THE WINDOW RIGHT BY US!!

I see her pressing her head on the screen and trying to see us.  I'm thinking, "Who picked this stupid place to hide?  How did we pick the two WORST places tonight?!?!!"

"Hello?  Is someone there?  I can hear you.  I think I can see someone there.  Who's out there?  What do you want?"  (none of this is sounding particularly hospitable and friendly)

It's at this point I realize these poor people were robbed two months ago (nothing major--just bikes stolen from the garage), and I don't see her husband's car in the driveway.  She's alone with her two small children and probably feeling scared and threatened.  I'm thinking, "This will be the first time someone gets arrested for doing a freaking 'Boo' to someone in the neighborhood." 

And my little guy is not helping our situation.  He's snorting with delight (like he always does when he's hiding, hoping he'll be found) and trying to see her looking for us.

She finally goes to the door, opens it, and sees the package on her doorway, puts two and two together, and (hopefully) realizes she's in no danger.  She takes it inside and I finally start feeling like we might make the night without having our mug shots taken.

To avoid being seen, we decide to run to the end of the street, cross the street out of sight, and head home on the other side of the street. 

As we're running down the street, my little man trips, rolls on someone's grass and is up and running as seamlessly as any savannah animal.  He's SO happy, "whispering" about how AWESOME this was and how we should TOTALLY do this again for Thanksgiving.

Bah humbug!