Chapter One: We Humbly Invite You To Dinner
I looked down at the note in my hand, double checking to make sure I had the right place. The note was pretty short, with neat rounded handwriting.
We humbly invite you to dinner. The Yellow House. 6PM.
I mean, cool. Kinda weird; who writes notes inviting people to dinner these days? But okay, I’m the new neighbor and they want to have us over for dinner…
This was the big yellow house. There were two cars parked in the driveway, a silver mini-van and a shiny beige Acura. I was about to walk down the driveway when I noticed the two kids in the bushes.
Literally, like, in the bushes that grew by the side of the house.
The looked like twins – the boy with a buzz cut and the girl with her blonde hair in pigtails. In the young boy’s hands, he held a basket with a red and white checkered cloth and something tan sticking out, although I couldn’t tell what.
When they saw me, they started to giggle.
Okay, so this is getting weirder. I thought. Maybe I’d just wait for my parents to come over. They were finishing baking a loaf of bread and some veggie side dish.
I was already at the house. Why wait?
I stared walking across the driveway, slightly nervous of approaching a stranger’s house, but quite confident this was the big yellow house. I looked at the two young kids. Maybe 2nd graders? Was I really that small three years ago?
They looked back at me.
I walked up the front steps, white painted wood that creaked slightly as I walked up to the glass storm door and rang the video doorbell.
I waited, my foot tapping on the ‘welcome’ rug by the doorway.
Then the door swung open.
I looked up at an old man with wispy grey hair and squared glasses.
“Hello there,” he said.
“Hello.”
I waited for him to say something else or invite me in but he didn’t.
He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
“I’m the new kid from down the street.” I said, sticking out my hand. “Adam.”
The man shook it. “Adam, pleasure to meet you. You just introducing yourself to all the neighbors, or are you selling something?”
“I – no, I’m not selling anything. Um, did you invite us over to dinner?”
I stuck out the little note which the man read.
“This looks like a kid wrote it. I’m sorry, kid. I mean,” He hesitated. “If you want you can come over with your parents and I can whip you up something, but I didn’t write this. Where’d you get it?”
My mouth felt dry. “I’m so sorry, sir.” I felt my face growing red as a plum. “That’s okay, I guess I’ll just…” I turned and started walking down the steps.
The man watched me from the doorway. “No worries. You’re welcome to come over.” I could feel his eyes watching me walk away from the house, toward the road. Then, I heard the door shut behind me.
What in the world? My mind was entirely on the note, humbly inviting me to dinner at a neighbor’s house. A neighbor who never actually invited us to dinner.
I entirely forgot about the two kids in the bushes until the first dinner roll hit me in the back of the head.
I looked around to see the two giggling kids in the yard, holding their basket. I actually didn’t know what had hit me until I saw what was sticking out of the basket with the red and white checkered cloth. A pile of stale, tan rolls. I hoped the white specks were flour but felt that hope fly out the window when my eyes slid to what the girl was holding. A silver pot full of slimy, moldy soup.
“What the – ” I mean, the soup literally had green carrots floating in it.
I began to run and the two kids charged after me. I saw a roll fly by my head and land on the grass in front of me. Another zizzed by and landed on the road. He was a poor shot.
I turned and looked back just in time to see them fling the moldy soup at me. It sloshed from the pot, flying through the air in a cascade of yellow and green and brown. Then it hit the grass about ten feet short.
These kids really were bad shots, but what the heck!? Who in the world writes a booby trap note, leaves it on someone’s front door, and then proceeds to try to make them wear dinner?
The boy threw another roll, which missed. I picked up one of the rolls that was laying on the grass and threw it back at him. The girl dropped the pot and both of them buried their hands in the basket, pulling out more rolls.
“Dinner!” the boy yelled, drawing his arm back.
“Yum! Yum! Yum!” The girl said, whipping a roll.
“You guys are crazy!” I said, dumfounded. I jogged to the end of the lawn and into the street. They followed, but their run wasn’t nearly as fast as my jog. Once I was a couple houses down, they stopped chasing me and turned around, presumably to pick up the pot the girl had left behind.
I guess they didn’t want any incriminating evidence left for the neighbors who definitely didn’t invite us over for dinner.
The big yellow house, eh?
So definitely not where the two kids lived. I watched them for a while, seeing where they’d disappear to, but despite the rolls and pool of soup decorating the neighbor’s lawn, they didn’t seem to be in a rush.
Welcome to the neighborhood, I thought. I didn’t want rolls and soup to be what the kind old man thinks of when he thinks of his new neighbors.
After a bit, I went back inside to tell Mom that we definitely weren’t going over to dinner.
We humbly invite you to dinner. The Yellow House. 6PM.
I mean, cool. Kinda weird; who writes notes inviting people to dinner these days? But okay, I’m the new neighbor and they want to have us over for dinner…
This was the big yellow house. There were two cars parked in the driveway, a silver mini-van and a shiny beige Acura. I was about to walk down the driveway when I noticed the two kids in the bushes.
Literally, like, in the bushes that grew by the side of the house.
The looked like twins – the boy with a buzz cut and the girl with her blonde hair in pigtails. In the young boy’s hands, he held a basket with a red and white checkered cloth and something tan sticking out, although I couldn’t tell what.
When they saw me, they started to giggle.
Okay, so this is getting weirder. I thought. Maybe I’d just wait for my parents to come over. They were finishing baking a loaf of bread and some veggie side dish.
I was already at the house. Why wait?
I stared walking across the driveway, slightly nervous of approaching a stranger’s house, but quite confident this was the big yellow house. I looked at the two young kids. Maybe 2nd graders? Was I really that small three years ago?
They looked back at me.
I walked up the front steps, white painted wood that creaked slightly as I walked up to the glass storm door and rang the video doorbell.
I waited, my foot tapping on the ‘welcome’ rug by the doorway.
Then the door swung open.
I looked up at an old man with wispy grey hair and squared glasses.
“Hello there,” he said.
“Hello.”
I waited for him to say something else or invite me in but he didn’t.
He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
“I’m the new kid from down the street.” I said, sticking out my hand. “Adam.”
The man shook it. “Adam, pleasure to meet you. You just introducing yourself to all the neighbors, or are you selling something?”
“I – no, I’m not selling anything. Um, did you invite us over to dinner?”
I stuck out the little note which the man read.
“This looks like a kid wrote it. I’m sorry, kid. I mean,” He hesitated. “If you want you can come over with your parents and I can whip you up something, but I didn’t write this. Where’d you get it?”
My mouth felt dry. “I’m so sorry, sir.” I felt my face growing red as a plum. “That’s okay, I guess I’ll just…” I turned and started walking down the steps.
The man watched me from the doorway. “No worries. You’re welcome to come over.” I could feel his eyes watching me walk away from the house, toward the road. Then, I heard the door shut behind me.
What in the world? My mind was entirely on the note, humbly inviting me to dinner at a neighbor’s house. A neighbor who never actually invited us to dinner.
I entirely forgot about the two kids in the bushes until the first dinner roll hit me in the back of the head.
I looked around to see the two giggling kids in the yard, holding their basket. I actually didn’t know what had hit me until I saw what was sticking out of the basket with the red and white checkered cloth. A pile of stale, tan rolls. I hoped the white specks were flour but felt that hope fly out the window when my eyes slid to what the girl was holding. A silver pot full of slimy, moldy soup.
“What the – ” I mean, the soup literally had green carrots floating in it.
I began to run and the two kids charged after me. I saw a roll fly by my head and land on the grass in front of me. Another zizzed by and landed on the road. He was a poor shot.
I turned and looked back just in time to see them fling the moldy soup at me. It sloshed from the pot, flying through the air in a cascade of yellow and green and brown. Then it hit the grass about ten feet short.
These kids really were bad shots, but what the heck!? Who in the world writes a booby trap note, leaves it on someone’s front door, and then proceeds to try to make them wear dinner?
The boy threw another roll, which missed. I picked up one of the rolls that was laying on the grass and threw it back at him. The girl dropped the pot and both of them buried their hands in the basket, pulling out more rolls.
“Dinner!” the boy yelled, drawing his arm back.
“Yum! Yum! Yum!” The girl said, whipping a roll.
“You guys are crazy!” I said, dumfounded. I jogged to the end of the lawn and into the street. They followed, but their run wasn’t nearly as fast as my jog. Once I was a couple houses down, they stopped chasing me and turned around, presumably to pick up the pot the girl had left behind.
I guess they didn’t want any incriminating evidence left for the neighbors who definitely didn’t invite us over for dinner.
The big yellow house, eh?
So definitely not where the two kids lived. I watched them for a while, seeing where they’d disappear to, but despite the rolls and pool of soup decorating the neighbor’s lawn, they didn’t seem to be in a rush.
Welcome to the neighborhood, I thought. I didn’t want rolls and soup to be what the kind old man thinks of when he thinks of his new neighbors.
After a bit, I went back inside to tell Mom that we definitely weren’t going over to dinner.