False Alarm Stirs Eugene Family

It was a dark and foggy morning. I had already hit the Ol’ snooze button once and had every intention of hitting it again when another alarm sounded, this one raised the hairs on the back of my neck. On Saturday, Dylan and I cleverly installed a pumpkin smasher early warning detection system, or as I like to call it a P.S.E.W.D.S.
Anyone gets within 5 feet of my newly fashioned pumpkin headed scarecrow and they hit a trip wire that rings our really deep windchimes.
Well anyway, just after 6 am, it goes off. Kim says, “better go check, but put some pants on first”. Oh yea, pants. While I think that running out there butt naked would go along way toward sealing my ‘Ol’ Crazyman Morton’ persona that I try to instill in all the neighborhood kids, I think it sends the wrong message, so the desperate search for my freshly washed sweatpants ensues. Why oh why cant they be conveniently strewn across the bed like normal?
Finally I find them after what feels like a lifetime of searching. The only shirt I can come up with is an old Detroit Redwing’s shirt which I assume someone gave me to mop up cat vomit with. (Cause why else would you have one). So I go shirtless through the door, and out to confront the early rising punks. I get halfway to the gate and realize that someone put my sweatpants on backwards. CURSES! How intimidating am I going to be if I can’t even put my pants on correctly. I shake off my failure and proceed through the gate...
(pause for suspense)
...Nothing! No punks. No smashed pumpkin, nothing. I can only assume a raccoon set it off.
Well it wont be long, they have to have seen my fresh pumpkin headed scarecrow, or as I refer to him now, “Bait”. I’ll keep you all posted.