by Kristin Baker Przybyla
I was straightening up the area near my front door when I thought I heard a soft knock. The night was dark and cold, and I wondered who could be knocking at this hour. I looked out the peephole, but saw nothing. (Neither our front porch light or doorbell have been working for the last five years, thanks to the hubby's never-ending "home improvement" projects.)
I dismissed it as the wind, since I have a wooden welcome sign that knocks against the door at the slightest breeze. Like the quintessential dumb horror movie victim, I opened the door a few seconds later, not to call out "hello?" but to take out a bag of garbage. I jumped back and yelped in shock when a tall figure, almost blending in with the dark landscape around him, moved forward on my porch.
I was just about to slam the door on the intruder when he laughed and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." A beam of light from the living room fell on his face, and then I started laughing too and opened the door wide. It was none other than Brian Crane, cartoonist of the hilarious comic strip Pickles, come to talk to my husband about something or other.
And that's my short but sweet story on how a cartoonist scared the heck out of me on my doorstep (back when the Cranes used to live in our ward).