Published: December 10, 2009

The man in the black conical hat watched me through my living room window. He had been trying to break in for the past four nights, though I didn’t know who he was or what he wanted. I couldn’t ask him what he was doing outside my house—he might have thought I was nosy.

So I closed the window and returned to the kitchen to peel potatoes for a beef stew. There was the stranger, staring at me through the screen window above the sink.

I hummed while sautéing vegetables. The intruder cleared his throat, “Come to me.”

“My hands are dirty.”

Just then, my family came home from a trip to the mall. When they saw the trespasser outside, they rushed to my side. “Go to him, go to him,” they chirped, nodding their bobbleheads.

The stranger tore through the screen and thrust his boot through the window. I was about to reprimand him for leaving footprints all over the kitchen counter when he placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Well, in this economy,” then disappeared.

The bobbleheads clapped. I glanced around, but found no trace of the peculiar man. I picked up my knife and continued chopping onions. Beef stew isn’t a beef stew without its vegetables.