that his neighbors seemed to be taking the proper precautions, only going out when it was necessary rather than heading out to karaoke Fridays and Sunday brunches. It made him feel a lot better knowing that the familiar faces he'd grown to love—regardless of never having much interaction with them—were being careful.
‘Making good progress?’ Anne asked her husband.
‘Yeah, good enough,’ Stewart replied.
‘Great. Lunch will be done in a few. I’m thinking we can play a quick round of cards after we’ve had something to eat.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Alright, Stewy. I’ll let you get back to that.’
Anne headed into the kitchen and Stewart went back to work, hammering nail after nail. And as though he needed proof that securing the doors was the right thing to do, out of nowhere, a noise interrupted his progress. Outside the kitchen window, a rattling noise was to be heard. Stewart slowly made his way to his feet. Thinking this was finally it, finally the time where people were going around trying to steal anything they could get their hands on, Stewart reached underneath the sofa for his gun. He motioned for his wife to go hide and she did as she was told, sneaking peeks at him whenever she felt she wouldn’t be seen. Stewart was sure that the robbers saw when he moved through the house and were simply unafraid, making him sincerely believe that they were armed. Like a character in a military movie, Stewart crawled on the floor all the way to the kitchen where he hid in the corner beside the refrigerator. He carefully looked out from the corner to see the outside. However, he saw nothing and was certain that the robbers were hiding from him. He wiggled around a bit, finally finding himself a position that would allow him to get a view of the outside.
‘I’ve got a gun and I know pretty damn well how to use it,’ he yelled.
He assumed that even if the robbers were hiding from him, they’d have to come up at some point.
‘Show yourself you cowards.’ Stewart demanded.
And then it happened, one of the burglars popped up and sprung across the garden. He screamed like a prepubescent girl. His wife, watching the entire thing, couldn’t contain her laughter.
‘A raccoon… It...it… it... it was a raccoon,’ she stuttered. ‘A raccoon, Stewart. I’ve got a gun, Mr. Raccoon,’ she teased.
Stewart, after finally gaining his composure, allowed himself to fill with laughter.
‘Those damn things. I could have sworn someone was about to crash right through the window.’
Again, Anne burst out laughing. ‘Oh thank God.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t know what I would do if someone were to try to break in here.’
‘I guess in a sense, this is a good thing.’ Stewart felt an idea streaming in. ‘It’s proof that these doors need to be sealed off...’
‘Yeah, but the trash. How would we get it out if you did that?’
‘I guess I could make one door a bit easier to pry apart from the inside but at the very least it’ll keep intruders out for a while—long enough for us to get prepared for an attack.’
‘That makes sense. Plus, they’ll make a lot more noise trying to get through the wood than the front door, for example.’
‘Exactly so,’ Stewart replied.
Then he went back to nailing pieces of board onto the entry points of his home. He found the entire thing extremely sad; he was starting to feel more like a prisoner in his own home, more than anything else. The fact that there was no hopping into the car and going for a drive to the hardware store or the grocery store filled him with despair. At this point, he realized that even though he knew how necessary prepping was, a huge part of it was a hobby for him. He liked sorting through his stockpile, seeing the things he had and watching it grow week after week as he added more items. He loved shopping around for cool gadgets that he hoped he wouldn’t need, but loved to play around with.
Now, even though he imagined he had a
‘Making good progress?’ Anne asked her husband.
‘Yeah, good enough,’ Stewart replied.
‘Great. Lunch will be done in a few. I’m thinking we can play a quick round of cards after we’ve had something to eat.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Alright, Stewy. I’ll let you get back to that.’
Anne headed into the kitchen and Stewart went back to work, hammering nail after nail. And as though he needed proof that securing the doors was the right thing to do, out of nowhere, a noise interrupted his progress. Outside the kitchen window, a rattling noise was to be heard. Stewart slowly made his way to his feet. Thinking this was finally it, finally the time where people were going around trying to steal anything they could get their hands on, Stewart reached underneath the sofa for his gun. He motioned for his wife to go hide and she did as she was told, sneaking peeks at him whenever she felt she wouldn’t be seen. Stewart was sure that the robbers saw when he moved through the house and were simply unafraid, making him sincerely believe that they were armed. Like a character in a military movie, Stewart crawled on the floor all the way to the kitchen where he hid in the corner beside the refrigerator. He carefully looked out from the corner to see the outside. However, he saw nothing and was certain that the robbers were hiding from him. He wiggled around a bit, finally finding himself a position that would allow him to get a view of the outside.
‘I’ve got a gun and I know pretty damn well how to use it,’ he yelled.
He assumed that even if the robbers were hiding from him, they’d have to come up at some point.
‘Show yourself you cowards.’ Stewart demanded.
And then it happened, one of the burglars popped up and sprung across the garden. He screamed like a prepubescent girl. His wife, watching the entire thing, couldn’t contain her laughter.
‘A raccoon… It...it… it... it was a raccoon,’ she stuttered. ‘A raccoon, Stewart. I’ve got a gun, Mr. Raccoon,’ she teased.
Stewart, after finally gaining his composure, allowed himself to fill with laughter.
‘Those damn things. I could have sworn someone was about to crash right through the window.’
Again, Anne burst out laughing. ‘Oh thank God.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t know what I would do if someone were to try to break in here.’
‘I guess in a sense, this is a good thing.’ Stewart felt an idea streaming in. ‘It’s proof that these doors need to be sealed off...’
‘Yeah, but the trash. How would we get it out if you did that?’
‘I guess I could make one door a bit easier to pry apart from the inside but at the very least it’ll keep intruders out for a while—long enough for us to get prepared for an attack.’
‘That makes sense. Plus, they’ll make a lot more noise trying to get through the wood than the front door, for example.’
‘Exactly so,’ Stewart replied.
Then he went back to nailing pieces of board onto the entry points of his home. He found the entire thing extremely sad; he was starting to feel more like a prisoner in his own home, more than anything else. The fact that there was no hopping into the car and going for a drive to the hardware store or the grocery store filled him with despair. At this point, he realized that even though he knew how necessary prepping was, a huge part of it was a hobby for him. He liked sorting through his stockpile, seeing the things he had and watching it grow week after week as he added more items. He loved shopping around for cool gadgets that he hoped he wouldn’t need, but loved to play around with.
Now, even though he imagined he had a
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