The House of Evil has a new car parked in the driveway. It is a huge black, of course, SUV. The windows have such a dark tint that it is impossible to see the interior. It is enormous, big enough to fit a number of bodies or a couple of coffins, more if they stacked them. The vehicle came sometime in the middle of the night, it was after we went to bed and before dawn when I pick up the newspaper in the front yard. It caught my eye because it is so enormous, too big to fit in the garage, not that who ever lives there puts cars in the garage, but this one is so large I doubt it could fit.
And as I studied the car, for there was something not quite right with how it looked, I noticed the license plate. At first I thought it out of state, not looking quite like a California plate. For one, it had only numbers and the color of the plate was off. I asked Prince Albert what he thought of the plate, if it came from California or not. He went out into the street and looked and observed the same thing I did, the plate wasn't quite right. And as we studied the plate it came to light that there is no state name to identify its origin. Very clever, and I imagine, that fleeing from a crime this would come in very handy for if someone was lucky enough to copy the plate, or if it the plate showed up on surveillance cameras, there would be no way to trace the vehicle.
What sinister crime are they plotting? I'll tell you another creepy thing. I started writing this article and put down only a sentence when the program jumped to publish. I started again, completing the article when suddenly the power went off. When I threw the switch and went to retrieve my work it was all wiped out, everything but the first sentence and somehow bypassed the auto-save. I checked the auto-save and it was functioning. Very strange as if the house knows I'm writing about it and its inhabitants. How?
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