I can’t remember the last time I felt safe traveling down Webster Avenue. There was just such an eerie, cold feeling when I would drive by. In most neighborhoods one sees children riding bikes, dogs being walked, and old ladies tending to their gardens. None of this ever happened on “Wacky Webster” as the locals call it. You’d never see anyone outside, which made it look abandoned. The only thing that signified that anyone still lived there was when the lights were turned on at night. I swear the people that live on Webster Avenue must be nocturnal or something. If you dare to drive by at night, almost every single light in the neighborhood is turned on. I made the mistake of doing exactly that one crisp October night. The wind was howling and so was my dog, riding shotgun in my Chevy Silverado. He knew he had to go to the vet, so he was trying to make me feel guilty. It didn’t work though. I was still mad at him for eating all of the candy I was going to hand out on Halloween night. So I ignored his whining as much as possible. I wanted to see if the vets could run a checkup because I am no dog expert, but I am pretty sure that eating a bowl full of chocolate candies is not good for a dog’s health. The one thing that I didn’t want to go wrong went wrong… the car stopped. I was out of gas in “Wacky Webster!” This could not end well. Being the idiot that I was, I had forgotten my purse (which contained my phone and wallet) at my house. I was left with only two rational options. I could get out of my car, knock on someone's door, and maybe get some help. Or I could sit in my car and hope that I don’t get mugged.
I decided to be brave and go ask for help. My eyes fell on the least sketchy house on the road. Although, being the least terrifying house on Webster wasn’t saying much. Regardless of all my fears, I tiptoed to the door. The paint was peeling all over the house, the grass was dead on the front lawn, and worst of all… I felt as if there was someone watching me. I knocked on the door quickly so that I didn’t have time for chickening out. It was almost twenty seconds later when the door creaked open. I could not believe my eyes! There wasn’t a scary person at the door. It was a cute old lady dressed head to toe in pink.
I look back on this moment in my life and remember to never judge a book by it’s cover. The old lady (who is named Jenn by the way) and I have remained friends since we struck up a conversation on the way to the veterinarian's office with my naughty dog. She is lovely, but quite lonely as well. She said that everyone on her road was very anti social and she had no one to talk to. Now, I drop by her house at least once a week to chat about life, and each of our pets. I am almost glad my car stopped working on that seemingly haunted night. It was totally worth it.