Graveyard Nutcase

Once upon a time there lived a teenager, and that teenager loved it when her parents left for weekend vacations. She loved to have the whole house to herself. “FREEDOM!” she would sing.

Now, as we fast forward to the future, this teenager married, and somehow grew into a lovely nutcase—(she should have been a ward of the state after the true story I’m going to tell)—and she fully blossomed into a promising psycho the first night her husband left for his new job on a graveyard shift.


“Oh, the ANXIETY!” she wailed. For some reason, our little Camryn-- psycho of the highest degree--became a basket of nerves. “What is wrong with me?” she cried. “I can have the whole bed to myself without fighting for the covers! I can stretch out and enjoy all the space! I can watch a sappy, romantic movie for the 34th time and stuff my face and not get embarrassed when I consume a bag of Doritos, Costco’s chocolate chip cookies, a couple of candy bars, a bag of popcorn, and a box of pizza WITHOUT my husband’s eyes popping out!”

Oh, trust me, this story gets good. In fact—it’s one of Camryn’s “most embarrassingly funny” moments.

Our pathetic, frightened heroine was going to ensure she’d be just fine the night her husband left. So, like any crazy, fanatical, misguided good girl, she planned ahead.
“I’m going to be a bat,” she determined unwaveringly. “I am going to go ‘nocturnal’ the minute my husband leaves, and I am going to stay up All. Night. Long.” But anxiety was like a cruel and wildly feral turtleneck sweater that threatened to choke her. But she practiced her breathing like the perfect Lamaze student.

The clock registered 9 pm and it s-l-o-w-l-y made one complete revolution. 10:00…then 11:00…the hours were passing as slow as “Hokey Pokey” night at the senior citizen center. Midnight rolled around and Camryn’s plan to pretend she was in the same nocturnal class as disease-carrying animals, made her realize she could never be one of them. She wasn’t a bat—she was a dingbat.

Time for plan B. Our heroine had nothing too inventive up her sleeve—she nixed the Ambien idea and instead, she was going to leave the lights on—every. single. one. And she would happily pay the electricity bill without embarrassment.
In her words she says, “I left the TV on so that if any of the neighbors in my townhome complex heard it, it would “appear” someone was still up. Smart, right?” (*insert nervous laughter*)

Okay—let’s cut to the chase. She panicked. She panicked like someone had tied her down and given her a bad perm, forcing her to wear a leotard and leg warmers and then styled her hair into a side ponytail. But she kept a cool façade. (Not in the same way as someone who had self-injected too much botox and can no longer show expression, no, no, nothing like that. It was because she was trying to act brave.)

But it was obvious she was “a little apprehensive to be alone” when she turned on every dang light in the house—including the ones in the bathrooms which had no windows. (Now if that wasn’t a “bright” idea. *wink, wink*)

Creatively, she decided to leave the TV on all night to create “noise.”
This my friends, is where the story gets good.

Our scaredy-cat heroine went half-way through the night—eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling until she suddenly realized that just because the TV was on, an intruder could try to break into her house anyway. But Camryn wouldn’t be able to hear an intruder because the TV…was on….

Immediately, she flew down the stairs like a cat jumping out of a bathtub full of water. She promptly turned off the TV and went back upstairs with her broom, because: “At the time I didn't own a baseball bat or any weapons—the broom was my pit bull.” she said. (*insert anxious laughter*)

Finally in bed, she lay in complete silence.
Every noise seemed…ominous....

(oooo…did you just hear the foreboding music in the background? Oops—sorry to interrupt this bedtime tale.)

Already playing the part of the insane dimwit—playing it very well, may I add—she realized that it was Friday night. Many people lived in the townhome neighborhood. There were always parties and people constantly coming and going. She wondered: ‘What if someone has had too much to drink and noticed my husband leaving for the night and they knew I was alone?’

That did it.

Little Miss Pansy and her pet pit broom flew down the stairs and immediately began moving furniture. Because that’s what disturbed, psychotically-challenged girls do. They move furniture at 2 in the morning. Believe it or not, she scooted the couch and blocked the door with it. She then piled her exercise equipment on top of the couch for extra weight—hoping to make the couch “heavier” so that intruders couldn’t move it. She used things like dumbbells and an exercise ball…and…uh….

Let’s pause here.

Let’s think about this in depth. If (and that's a strong if) IF an intruder is going to break into your home—are dumbbells piled on top of your couch going to stop them?! On top of that—an exercise ball???!!!!! Could you imagine an intruder’s thoughts? “I can’t break in! There’s a heavy, plastic exercise ball in the doorway! I just can’t get through!”

It’s a good thing Camryn saved the day! Having put that exercise ball on top of the couch—she saved her belongings and herself from theft and robbery. What a witty girl!

After stock-piling her couch with “weighty” objects, she now felt confident.

“I would DEFINITELY hear someone trying to break into my home now,” she said.

Okay, psycho little girl…

I know, I know. You’re praying that this stupid story just ends here and that she finally got the sleep she needed. Nope. Playing the part of village idiot takes practice and she was ready to make her debut!

Camryn had barricaded the front door—but she had the back door to work on now.
So, what did Camryn do?

She scooted her kitchen table and barricaded the back door. But the kitchen table wasn’t good enough. She thought, 'What if someone came through my backyard and tried to break in? They could obviously open the door a hair, scoot the table quietly and then proceed to go over OR under it—making the table practically pointless.'

Let the brilliant ideas keep on coming!

She then proceeded to place all her kitchen chairs on top of the table for good measure.
She stacked them cleverly, skillfully. Years of playing with dominos paid off as she stacked them so that if someone did try to come in, it would knock down not just one chair, but all of them.

Her plan was as fail safe as hiding an elephant in a strawberry patch.

Camryn and her pit broom went back upstairs—and like a good guard dog, she set the broom on the floor. She lay WIDE AWAKE trying to fall asleep. (It takes a lot of time to soothe a mentally challenged lunatic to sleep, who happens to have a few screws loose...)

It was now 3 in the morning and Camryn’s mind decided to play a cruel game of “overreact.” She sat straight up in bed with a sudden epiphany. She remembered the ‘Dateline’ show she had watched that said intruders go through windows 90% of the time. Intruders like the element of surprise…..

“Of course they aren’t going to go through the door!” she screeched. “They’re going to come through the window!"
Camryn flew back downstairs with her pet guard broom (because the gentle dog she owned would greet an intruder with a wagging tail and a wet tongue.) She went straight to the kitchen. She was now convinced that an intruder wasn’t going to come through the door—but she left the couch and kitchen table where they were—just as a precaution.

“A girl can never be too safe!” she stated.

Or stupid...

Staring at her kitchen window—she knew she had to make a booby trap. She was struck with an ingenious plan!! Camryn went to the cupboard where she kept the cereal and grabbed the cornflakes. She proceeded to “sprinkle” frosted cornflakes all over the window sill……all over the sink……and the counters……and on the floor…. (vowing to clean up her mess in the morning)

FINALLY! “This is a good plan,” said she, “IF an intruder DID come through MY window, he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without me hearing him! He couldn’t climb through the window, and he certainly couldn’t climb off the counter.”
It’s strange how far stupidity can be stretched.

INTRUDERS BEWARE: Should you try to break into this house—you would remain perched on the window sill because of a dangerous layer of crackling corn flakes on the floor. Camryn’s loyal corn flakes would alert her if you so much as tried to enter.

Who needs an alarm system when you have frosted corn flakes? Duh!

Every entrance in Camryn’s home was now jammed and booby trapped. Finally, finally, finally-- she could get some sleep.

Nooooooope.

Camryn had just pulled the covers over her body when….

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!
Camryn froze. She nearly wet the bed when she heard cornflakes crunching with the weight of someone walking on them downstairs. Camryn inwardly screamed. ‘AHHHHHHHHHHH!!! 911, 911!! Where’s my phone?’ she thought, searching madly, and then remembered. ‘ARGH! I left it DOWNSTAIRS!’

Shaking like a leaf, she grabbed her broom with a death grip and walked quietly down the stairs…..ready to use it…..and man, whoever was going to find themselves on the other end of the stick, was going to get a severe beating with dust bunnies.

She could only hear the sound of her hysterical breathing and her pounding heart.
Courageously, Camryn peeked around the corner to see if she could see anyone.
The downstairs was clear, but there was crunching coming from every corner of the kitchen—and it was careful—guarded, oddly quiet…….

She stood there, concealed on the stairs, desperately thinking out her next plan. ‘What am I going to do? Where is my phone? How am I going to…’ Her eyes stopped on the front door, bugging at the sight of her couch. ‘Oh no!’ she thought ‘How on earth am I going to get out of my house if there is an intruder in my kitchen!’

“Witty Camryn” had just barred herself inside her own home.

On the verge of hysterical tears, she actually contemplated climbing out her second story window, but she didn’t want to overreact. No, no, because she hadn’t done enough of that already…

Crunch, crunch, crunch…..

Breaking out into a cold sweat, she had no martial arts training--well, nothing past sweeping the floor with excellent skill.
Dude, she was gonna die.

(She now wishes she had taken that Ambien because she’d rather be sleeping when her life came to an abrupt end by Mr. Intruder Cornflakes.)

Bravely, she glanced around the corner again, trying to keep herself hidden as she heard the crunch. Suddenly…there was movement. White knuckles on the broom, she had a plan. Whoever it was--was moving. She would remain hidden around the corner, planning to thrust her broom at just the right moment so she could hit whoever it was in the head and do severe harm.....

Wait for it, she chanted, wait for it…
NOW!
Camryn jumped a few seconds too early. “HIYA!!” she screamed
(I don’t know where that came from, it’s just something she said as a result of watching too many Jackie Chan movies.)

Yeah, well, the only thing she spooked was her dog. Yep, her dog. No one else. Did that mean…..?
She ran to the kitchen. Yep. Her dog had eaten all the frosted corn flakes off the floor. Obviously we now know Camryn does not think through things clearly at 3 in the morning. Don’t even ask where she placed the cereal box, because it’s too embarrassing for her to admit that she left it on the window sill.

So, did Camryn get any sleep that night? “No,” she laughs. “But I have grown up since then. The few times my husband has left over the years for various things, I actually sleep pretty well. My thoughts now? If an intruder is going to break into my home—there is nothing I can do about it. But, if he’s going to try, he’s going to have to get past my ‘booby traps.’” Playfully she adds, smiling mischievously, “And I don’t use corn flakes anymore.”

*based on actual events :)