• Polishing off the bottle of scotch I swiped from the Halloween party at work
  • Pulling on a hoodie and sneaking over to my neighbors’ garage.
  • Groping around in the dark, far corner where they stack their old paint cans.
  • Jabbing the tip of a screwdriver into the palm of my left hand in the process of prying a lid off.
  • Knocking over a glass jar trying to find their damn paintbrushes.
  • Sneaking around to the front of the house, where they plant their sanctimonious yard signs.
  • Dipping my index finger into a can of white latex to write “Even vandals?” on the placard that says “All Are Welcome Here.”
  • Crouching in the shadows next to the car parked in front of their house.
  • Painting a bunch of big loopy peace signs and hearts all along the passenger side.
  • Swearing out loud when I recognized it was my car, parked in front of their house to make a point about their guests always taking my spot.
  • Trying to wipe the paint off with clumps of leaves and my left sleeve, but just smearing it around into annoying cloud formations.
  • Leaving a trail of drips and footprints to my back porch.
  • Shedding my paint-splattered pants and hoodie on the kitchen floor.
  • Banging the scotch bottle against my front tooth trying to see if there was any left.
  • Answering the front doorbell in a tee-shirt and boxers.
  • Asking the sheriff’s deputy if he had a warrant.
  • Going back inside to put my clothes back on.
  • Insisting “You have no proof” while wagging my white-tipped finger in his face.
  • Demanding from the back seat of the patrol car “Since when is Halloween mischief against the law?”
  • Following up with “Well it’s Halloween somewhere, bitches!”
  • Shivering in the overnight holding cell, wishing the cops hadn’t taken my pants and hoodie as so-called evidence.
  • Cursing the invention of Daylight Savings Time. That extra hour is way too tempting.

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