The Ridiculous Misdeeds on Talon Drive, Recorded in Secret, August 1974

It was a shock to absolutely no one when Mr. Weston died. In fact, it was a relief to most, as the residents had long awaited the estate sale. Dreaming of possible things they might acquire and sell for a fortune. However, that lofty dream vanished with the Sunday paper.

"Home and fortune of the Weston Estate are to be passed down to his estranged nephew, a Mr. Andrew Weaton. Mr. Weaton is set to inherit the house on the hill on Talon Dr. and the contents of his vault, including 20,000 dollars."

Needless to say, Mr. Weaton became the talk of the town. However, most of that talk was about how little was known about Mr. Weaton. The only detail they could discern was that he was often seen jotting in a little black notebook. When meeting with estate managers and bankers his nose would hardly lift from the notebook as they conversed. He spoke with no one else. He came and went without a "hello" or "good day" to anyone. Seemingly eager to leave the newly acquired home as soon as possible. Neighbors had more than once seen him run from front door to vehicle, speeding away with almost reckless abandon.

The neighborhood was watching. Especially Mrs. Nedermen.

"Hmm…leaving again," she wheezed, using her long boney finger to push aside the dusty curtain and peer with her one good eye. She had the essence of a prehistoric bird, with a hooked nose and long neck, but it was her predatory nature that solidified that avian link.

"He's up to something," said Mrs. Nedermen craning her neck towards the back of the house. "Oh, he’s certainly from ill stock. His name isn’t even the same as Mr. Weston’s! This crook couldn’t even be bothered to get the spelling right. All this watching and the only bit of information I've managed to get is that he's obsessed with this notebook of his. But what's in it?” Her shrill words found their perch in her husband's ears, and he responded with a disinterested grunt. "Are you listening to me, Arnold?" she squawked. Arnold sounded off with another dismissive snort, but it did not sway his wife. "There's something dastardly about this stranger. I suspect horrible things have transpired and will continue to if someone doesn't do something about it."

In a vain attempt at elegance, she moved from her window roost across the living room where her husband was firmly rooted to his recliner. Arnold Nedermen was an odd, shaped person. His appearance resembled that of an amorphous blob with a face. He had been in his recliner so long there was no distinction between Arnold and the chair. His eyes were fixated on the mini television planted on his stomach.

Perched on the couch beneath the window, Mrs. Nedermen dug her toes into the carpet. She tapped a long finger on her chin as she pondered. There it was! A brilliant and terrible idea. "We need to get that notebook," she said. "Then we can expose this Mr. Weaton for the fraud he is and save the neighborhood. I’m sure no one else has bothered to notice this threat.” Unfortunately for Mrs. Nedermen, this was not the case.

"You see this guy? Shows up, gets a new house and 20 grand tossed in his pocket, and has the gall to shrug us off. Ignoring every business opportunity we've offered him," said Jimmy James while wiping the makeup off his face, proceeding to peal his greasy wig from his scalp. He tossed his clip-on tie to the couch and slammed his suitcase full of blank papers on the table. "What's his problem?"

"Yeah, the guy won the family lottery! The old man croaks, don't even know him, and he gets all that money and the house on the hill. But can't tell a good investment when he sees it. Anyway, what grift did we try on him last?" asked Joey Jake.

"The Chattanooga Tire Swap…he didn't fall for it. Said there’s no need for snow tires in summer," sputtered Frank, looking up from the forged refinance forms. "Suspect he ain't going to buy into tsunami insurance; he might know the ocean is 3,000 miles away."

"Right, right," said Joey Jake. The three business partners were running out of scams. "I just can't seem to crack this fella. He's locked tighter than a vault welded shut. How you suppose we get this scrooge to give up his money?"

Jimmy looked at Joey and said, "He keeps his secrets hidden because he doesn't store them in his head," Looks of utter confusion rested on Joey and Frank's faces. Frank even pointed his finger at his head as if trying to work out how to remove a thought physically. "He keeps a journal!" shouted Jimmy James. "Haven't you noticed the little black notebook he's always got tucked under his arm? You ever wonder why he's guarding it so closely?"

"A book?" muttered Joey Jake, as if he had never even heard the term before.

Jimmy looked pensive as he said, “A man who keeps a journal that close and that secretive does it for a reason. So, if we get that notebook, we can get the secrets." Their faces lit with evil grins. "Get the costumes ready, boys, and when the moments right, we’ll con that man out of everything he owns."

Though the business partners and the Nedermen family thought highly of their stealthy spying. The first residents to start surveying Mr. Weaton were those of the last house on the road. They had been doing reconnaissance missions since the first day Mr. Weaton arrived. Day and night, from afar and near, they surveilled the house on the hill, using bushes for cover, they sometimes got close enough to cast a fog on the windows. Yet, no one in the neighborhood seemed to have noticed this. Though they were skilled in sneaking, this had less to do with their craft and more to do with their age.

"I want that 20,000 dollars," shouted Beth, the smallest of the four children. She crushed the old Sunday newspaper in her fist and threw it across the room. "Are there any updates I should know about?"

"No," said the third tallest child. "We have nothing new to report."

"Ugh!" shouted Beth. She had longed to leave the tiny neighborhood for something more significant and saw Mr. Weaton as her ticket.

Beth's three siblings were lined up beside her in order from shortest to tallest. They wore matching outfits, red jumpsuits with purple racing stripes down the sides. When they moved, they did so in perfect unison, matching each other's pace and stride.

"We just have to go for it, go for the gold, go for the finish line," said Beth. "The moment we get a chance, we got to take it! But we have to know what we’re up against! Number 3, what are the potential risks?"

"There could be a grim reaper inside," squeaked the third tallest.

"Or a witch," said the second tallest.

"Possibly living furniture," suggested the tallest.

"I see," said Beth. "Hmm… we'll need weapons…"

"I’ll get mom’s flare gun!" shouted the tallest sibling.

"…and protection…" continued Beth.

"I'll get dad’s pepper spray!" exclaimed the second tallest child.

"…and something to help us get away…"

"I’ll get grandpa’s old wheelchair!" said the third tallest.

The three siblings cartwheeled, backflipped, and somersaulted out of the room, leaving Beth to work out the finer details of their growing plans."

Mr. Weaton had left in a hurry the night it happened. Eyes watched him suspiciously as he entered the house on the hill, notebook in hand. After a quick visit, he left very noticeably, empty-handed. Once his car disappeared from view, the vulture, the con men, and the circus children set their plans into motion.

Mrs. Nedermen and her husband, dressed in black nightgowns and large sleeping hats, made their way to the back door and found it curiously unlocked. Mrs. Nedermen entered the kitchen, leaving her husband Arnold trapped in the door as it seemed several of the couch cushions had come with him. Frustrated by the racket, Mrs. Nedermen grabbed Arnold's arms and yanked him inside. They tip-toed toward the foyer.

"Alright, Arnold," whispered Mrs. Nedermen. "We just need to get upstairs to the bedroom and-"

The house was a cacophony of noise as the doorbell rang, a scream echoed, and a bright light accompanied a large explosion.

Prior to the commotion, Joey Jake and Frank walked up to the front door, trying to get their story straight.

"Alright, so you remember your lines, right?" asked Joey Jake, who was wearing white robes that dragged on the ground as he stepped. Frank nodded vigorously, but in doing so, shook the safari hat from his head. "Well, let's go over it one more time. We're a married couple from Australia who are members of The Church of Outright and Utter Acceptance of All Things to the Point It Feels A Bit Ingenuine. We're in town spreading our message of acceptance, etcetera. Our job is to keep him talking long enough for Jimmy James to get in through the side window." Frank nodded, looked around, took note of a lone wheelchair, and rang the doorbell.

A scream resounded. There was a loud explosion and a very bright light.

Several minutes before anyone else had arrived, Beth and her three siblings scaled the wall to the second story so easily it was as if gravity had been turned on its side. Once inside, the four siblings pressed their shoulders to one another, creating a square of human vigilance and rotating as they walked to capture a 360-degree view of their surroundings. They began their descent into the central part of the house when they heard noises coming from the kitchen.

Beth and her siblings moved down the stairs soundlessly. Before they could do anything else, several things happened at once.

The doorbell rang.

A black blur appeared menacingly from around the corner, causing one of the children to scream.

"Grim Reaper!"

Just then, Mrs. Nedermen and Arnold stepped into the fray. Another of the siblings screamed.

"A witch and living furniture!"

The second tallest child unleashed all of the pepper spray onto Jimmy James' face. The tallest child pulled the trigger of the gun, sending the flare pinballing through the living room. It exploded in a bright flash of white light and set the remaining couch cushions stuck to Arnold's body aflame.

Not a second later, Beth and her three siblings leapt through the window, all four landing perfectly on the wheelchair, retreating home. Mrs. Nedermen and Arnold flew out of the front door, knocking Joey Jake to the ground. The wife and husband proceeded to flop on the front lawn, trying to extinguish the flames from Arnold's backside. Jimmy James came barreling out of the front door like a teary-eyed Frankenstein arms searching for safe space. The only person left standing was Frank.

He entered the wreckage waving his hands at the smoke, coughing as he tried to navigate his way around. It wasn't long before he found the notebook.

It was sitting on the living room table as if begging to be found. Flipping through pages of meticulous notes, Frank found detailed information about himself, his business partners, Mrs. Nedermen, and the children down the street. The final page read as follows:

"To whichever thief this may concern. While I had intended to donate all of my late uncle's estate, including the 20,000 dollars, to the locals of Talon Drive. You have proven yourselves to be a vile and unruly bunch. Whether it be watching my every movement, selling me ridiculous insurance, or hiding in bushes, it is simply too much. Thanks to you all, I’ve determined to donate everything to a distant charity."