The Naked Truth
It was a hot summer evening in 2024 when Mr. Wilkerson, had too much time on his hands and a nosey neighbor at that decided to step up the neighborhood watch.
The Shaws, newlyweds who'd just moved in next door were enjoying their new porch swing. As they shared a sweet kiss, Mr. Wilkerson's imagination went into overdrive. His reading glasses were foggy as he was looking for his smartphone.
"911? Yes, there's an emergency!” "The new neighbors are swinging... naked... on their porch!" Mr. Wilkerson told the operator.
Officer Martinez arrived minutes later, expecting the worst. Instead she found the fully-clothed Shaws sipping lemonade and Mr. Wilkerson peeking through his blinds.
Mr. Wilkerson tried to explain. "But officer, I saw... I mean, I thought..."
"Sir," Officer Martinez sighed, "Perhaps you might want to lower your prescription... and maybe cut back on the true crime marathons?"
As she left the Shaws turned and showed Mr. Wilkerson their backsides as the laughed and waved at their embarrassed neighbor. Mr. Wilkerson causally gives them the middle finger and shuts his blinds, vowing to mind his own business... at least until tomorrow.
The day after his embarrassing false alarm, Mr. Wilkerson was determined to keep to himself. He walked through his house watering his plants and dusting his collection of gold plaques he collected.
As he passed by the window facing the Shaw’s house he froze mid-step. His eyes widened and he blinked rapidly convinced it was not an he illusion. There in broad daylight were the Shaw’s and a group of friends butt naked look as if they were playing a game of freeze tag or something.
"Good googly Moogly!” Mr. Wilkerson shouted, his face pressed against the glass. "I know I wasn't imagining things after all!"
Suddenly, one of the naked players spotted him. Mr. Wilkerson ducked, but it was too late. The group led by Mr. Shaw started walking towards his house.
The doorbell rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Mr. Wilkerson?" Mrs. Shaw called out. "We know you are in there we saw you watching. We'd like to know why are you spying on us."
But Mr. Wilkerson remained frozen in place, he didn’t move and was holding his breath. He started thinking about. What if they called the police on him this time?
The doorbell rang again but Mr. Wilkerson didn’t answer. He simply sat there, trapped in the closet of his house wondering how he’s going to get out this situation. His quiet retirement had turned into a nudist nightmare.
Outside, the Shaw’s and their friends looked at each other puzzled. "Maybe he wants us to think he's not home?" Mr. Shaw suggested.
"Or maybe," "he's just embarrassed because we caught him peeking out the window. Mrs. Shaw said with a wink.
As they walked away, Mr. Wilkerson let out a long relieved sigh. He made a mental note to invest in some dark and very thick curtains... and perhaps tint his windows and take a vacation to Florida to visit a retirement community.