- Joined
- May 18, 2017
For this idea, I would be:
The (15 to 33 year old) neighbor to YC - a Grandpa type of guy who everybody in the neighborhood absolutely adores. In my entire life, having grown up next to you, there hasn't been one single thing I have ever seen to think of you as anything more than a genuinely nice man. You're always there to help somebody with yard work, or when anything breaks on their car or in their house. If somebody ever gets stuck in a snowbank, you're helping dig them out. You snow blow everybody's driveways, and you've even mowed other neighbors lawns at times. You're always the one dressed as Santa for the kids in the neighborhood, and in hard times, you've allowed a select few people to borrow money from you. It's how you stay busy as a retired man. It's how you feel good as a retired man.
Just like the nice stories and facts about you circulate, there are always naysayers. Those naysayers happened to be the friends I hung out with as of late, who talked about you as though you were some kind of creep. At first I vehemently defended you, but with the pressure to conform in full force, especially when they would bully me for defending you and even accuse me of having a crush on you, I quickly begin to fall into rank with them. Before long, while drinking in the backyard while my parents were away for one of their frequent weekend getaways, my friends convince me to play a prank on you. That prank? Sneak into your house, spray paint the word "CREEP" on the wall, and take a picture of it to prove I went through with it. Once again, the pressure to conform and to fit in was in full force. And with a few drinks in my system, I found myself walking over to your yard after watching you drive off, with the intention to keep my word, even if I would feel absolutely horrible afterwards. In my mind however, I was convinced that as long as I snuck out, there wouldn't be any way for you to know that it was me. And there wouldn't have been either, until I got locked in the basement.
I knew that your back door was unlocked at all times, but I still opted to sneak in through the basement window. My guilty conscience was messing with my judgment, and the last thing I certainly needed to do was to see the back door of your house everyday and be reminded of what I did. The problem with the basement window was that there was nothing to stand on in order to climb back out, and the door to even get in only worked from the outside anyway. So when I snuck in, spray painted the wall, only to realize that I couldn't get through the door and I couldn't sneak back out, Panic set in. My friends? They bailed, driving off before they were part of the fallout from the whole situation. I was basically stuck until you let me out. It was too bad that I already spray-painted the word on the basement wall, before I realized that I was trapped.
When I would finally hear you come home, I would cry out for help. That was probably the dumbest thing I could have done, because instead of calmly thinking of a way out, I instead got your attention which would in turn reveal what I had done. And when I watch the basement door open, a very different version of you would be standing at the door. The normally cheery old man who always had a smile on his face was gone. I was instead looking at an old man who wore an expression of seriousness and malicious intent. It was such a drastic and unexpected difference in your tone that it chilled me to the bone. I had no idea what it was like the steering to the eyes of a dangerous person, but I was pretty sure that this was it. As I watched you close the door behind you, I was instantly fully prepared to fully obey everything that was about to happen.
Imagine how stupid I'll feel when I learn that the door was a push door, not a pull one.
The (15 to 33 year old) neighbor to YC - a Grandpa type of guy who everybody in the neighborhood absolutely adores. In my entire life, having grown up next to you, there hasn't been one single thing I have ever seen to think of you as anything more than a genuinely nice man. You're always there to help somebody with yard work, or when anything breaks on their car or in their house. If somebody ever gets stuck in a snowbank, you're helping dig them out. You snow blow everybody's driveways, and you've even mowed other neighbors lawns at times. You're always the one dressed as Santa for the kids in the neighborhood, and in hard times, you've allowed a select few people to borrow money from you. It's how you stay busy as a retired man. It's how you feel good as a retired man.
Just like the nice stories and facts about you circulate, there are always naysayers. Those naysayers happened to be the friends I hung out with as of late, who talked about you as though you were some kind of creep. At first I vehemently defended you, but with the pressure to conform in full force, especially when they would bully me for defending you and even accuse me of having a crush on you, I quickly begin to fall into rank with them. Before long, while drinking in the backyard while my parents were away for one of their frequent weekend getaways, my friends convince me to play a prank on you. That prank? Sneak into your house, spray paint the word "CREEP" on the wall, and take a picture of it to prove I went through with it. Once again, the pressure to conform and to fit in was in full force. And with a few drinks in my system, I found myself walking over to your yard after watching you drive off, with the intention to keep my word, even if I would feel absolutely horrible afterwards. In my mind however, I was convinced that as long as I snuck out, there wouldn't be any way for you to know that it was me. And there wouldn't have been either, until I got locked in the basement.
I knew that your back door was unlocked at all times, but I still opted to sneak in through the basement window. My guilty conscience was messing with my judgment, and the last thing I certainly needed to do was to see the back door of your house everyday and be reminded of what I did. The problem with the basement window was that there was nothing to stand on in order to climb back out, and the door to even get in only worked from the outside anyway. So when I snuck in, spray painted the wall, only to realize that I couldn't get through the door and I couldn't sneak back out, Panic set in. My friends? They bailed, driving off before they were part of the fallout from the whole situation. I was basically stuck until you let me out. It was too bad that I already spray-painted the word on the basement wall, before I realized that I was trapped.
When I would finally hear you come home, I would cry out for help. That was probably the dumbest thing I could have done, because instead of calmly thinking of a way out, I instead got your attention which would in turn reveal what I had done. And when I watch the basement door open, a very different version of you would be standing at the door. The normally cheery old man who always had a smile on his face was gone. I was instead looking at an old man who wore an expression of seriousness and malicious intent. It was such a drastic and unexpected difference in your tone that it chilled me to the bone. I had no idea what it was like the steering to the eyes of a dangerous person, but I was pretty sure that this was it. As I watched you close the door behind you, I was instantly fully prepared to fully obey everything that was about to happen.
Imagine how stupid I'll feel when I learn that the door was a push door, not a pull one.