Growing up I think that every neighborhood had the creepy old lady or creepy old man that lived in a creepy old house. Kids would dare each other to play “ding dong ditch’em” or play “rock, paper, scissors” to see who would have to sneak into their yard to retrieve a ball or kite that had unfortunately made its way onto their property.
In most cases, these people were misrepresented by rumor & kid’s imaginations running wild. I remember in our neighborhood that was Jenny. She was a scary-looking woman with wild hair, polyester pantsuits, & these cat-eye glasses that enlarged her eyes. We avoided her house like the plague because of her looks and her attitude towards us.
As I grew up, I realized that she wasn’t so creepy. I ended up mowing her lawn for a few years, she paid me well and always gave me a fudgecicle after I was done (I threw it away when I got home, those things had been in her freezer since the 1970’s and reeked of cat).
Here in the neighborhood I live in, I’ve already pinpointed the “house to avoid”. The dingy siding, falling down eaves, cars filled with trash, the house to avoid indeed…