Mistaken Identities

As he drove down the dusty grid road to his property's drive, he saw his nearest neighbor out cutting the grass for the last time before the warm fall decended into the bleak onslaught of endless Canadian winter. That could honestly happen at any time now "hmph, let it come." he mused, this would be his 47th year living here...he was born in the city, raised on the farm, and never left.

He waved as he drove past - out of politeness, it was the 'country' thing to do after all. He grew up at roughly the same age as his neighbor, they were only a year apart in the school they attended in the slowly dying town 70 miles from nowhere in any direction in rural Manitoba. Their bus ride was about 40 minutes because they lived in the 'suburbs' only 20 miles out from the K-12 they spent their youth at.

He could see the enterance to his yard now, he took his foot off the gas while he was still reflecting on days past.

Small town schools had a different atmosphere he theorized, city schools have much more diversity, choice...you are more likely to find your tribe rather than be forced to adapt to the group most closely attuned to your beliefs or being...if you dare show it like you are in the country. In fact, many cliques exist because of the common ground of we make fun of those who are more different.

A lesson he had learned early on being a quiet boy, not really into sports, a little chubby and more at home with a book or a drawing pad, rather than a fishing pole or rabbit gun. In fact, after he had gotten used to his gifted nickname of 'le freak', he never even paid attention to the other kids, including his lawn mowing neighbor.

He slammed the truck into park outside his gate...he lived rural, sure, but the city had crept toward his property relentlessly over the last quarter century enough so that everyone had erected locking gates to keep out unwelcomed lookey-loos who had a tendency towards smash and grab break and enters.

As he fiddled with his keys, the hairs stood up on the nape of 'le freak's' neck, "That's not my lock." he said aloud, perplexed. His gaze followed his driveway up towards his house to a strange car sitting in his parking spot. His eyes quickly scanned the yard, the road, the treeline...he wasn't expecting company, and he lived alone...why is this lock here? where's my lock? he thought as he scanned the ground to see if it was nearby, but it was not.

Le Freak chewed his lip, he didn't like this, not one bit. He was one part scared in the moment, one part confused at what was going on and one part infuriated that soneone had the audacity to invade his space. As it's prone to do, fury won the day as Le Freak walked back, turned off the truck and locked it's doors. He then began a slow, careful stroll up to his house.

He was about 20 meters out from the front door when he noticed movement inside through the window, "Shit!" he muttered under his breath, 10 meters out he could tell the door knob and deadbolt were new. "What in the absolute fuck is happening right now?" He inspected the rear of the intruders car, a Subaru Outback with Alberta plates...not new, but not old, and in decent shape. Inrerior is clean, doesn't look like anyone's been sleeping in it...the mystery is not getting less mysterious.

Le Freak heard the lock on his door disengage...not his lock, but his door, his anger rose but he knew he was in no position to expose emotion. As the door swung inward, a man emerged, not an impressive man, not a big man, just by lowest common denominator definition, a man. A man wearing a polo shirt and khakis - god almighty he hated business casual though Le Freak - and on top of that, an apron. The hint of cooking was carried on the air currents escaping his house..."This fucking bed salesman looking piece of shit hijacked my house so he could make dinner?" As Harold homemaker drew a breath in to greet the actual homeowner, Le Freak studied the woman who came out onto the deck beside her accomplice. She was obviously his wife, same height, lean, blonde...every bit as forgetable as the man was, but she was holding the hand of a girl, maybe seven years of age.

"Welcome home, Mr. Coldby, as you can see...the game is on!" This man said, barely containing his glee.

..........."what?"

The man's smile underneath his Ned Flanders moustache widened, "Oh come now Mr. Coldby, surely you remember starting this game of capture the flag those long months ago on your vacation? When you saw fit to STEAL a parking spot we had CLEARLY indicated was OURS!!!"

Le Freak was confused, he was furious, but if his experience (trauma) in living life had given him anything, it was the ability to appear composed whilst under stress. "....I believe" he began slowly, eyes moving from man to woman to child and back again, "that we have a case of mistaken identity here."

"Oh really, Mr Coldby? so you 'forget' that you came to Alberta and while you were there you STOLE the parking space right out from under us? We clearly had our blinker on, indicating we were about to execute a turn into the space, but you just zipped on in all willy-nilly and carefree!" Apron-moustache was visibly agitated as he ranted, waving his hands in the imaginary POV directions of phantom parking spots relative to his position. His wife nodding along in agreement, seemingly completely all-in on her crazed husband's play...even the child seemed 'out to lunch' off to Le Freak as he stood listening to this shit.

Moustache continued, oblivious to the fact his audience wasn't fully paying attention to the narrative, "AND...And when I honked, you gave me the finger, you got out and dashed into the event center,only turning to shout 'Game On', not even caring about what you had done!" The wife was now in tears, like a T.V. Evangelist wife, selling the emotion of the sermon. "I wanted to come after you then, but we had to get our daughter to her birthday party at the Spinning Wheel...ever since she learned about Amish looming techniques in homeschool culture crafts, all she had wanted was a formal pilgrim dress, and I....WE will not disappoint our daughter!" The wife grabbed her husband's hand as a show of love and supporr, as well as gratitude for that last show of solidarity.

"But, I took down your liscence plate number, and the model and make of your car. from that point forward it was simple detective work to find out everything about you. Where you lived, start with Manitoba and work inward, applying what i knew with educated guesses, having conversations with insurance brokers...it's incredibly easy to pass yourself off as a private investigator, which suprisingly can take you far, like carrying a ladder into restricted areas, no one questions it!"

Le Freak was half dumbfounded and half impressed at the lengths this cuckoo family went because of a bit of road rage, so he allowed the story to continue.

"Once we knew who you were and where you were, it was just lining up what we were going to do with you, and when to do it! I had just started a new job, and had not accrued vacation time yet, Van Gretta, my bride, has a bit more fluid schedule as she is tasked with schooling our daughter, Željka and tending to the honeybees. It took months, but we found our spot, planned to be away for an indefinite time, as we were unsure how long it would take to gather the right materials, and calculate the appropriate time to strike. And you made it easy for us, no wife, no neighbors close by, no pets even! That made the time to strike easy to determine, it was today, and now your house and yard are ours...game on Mr Coldby....Game on."

The husband and wife vibrated with excited energy after the reveal was done, obviously proud of their intricate but horrendously creepy plans.

Le Freak juat stood there, eyes darting from Moustache to wife to weird child and back, an empty void of silence grew between the two parties. A long, uncomfortable silence, uncomfortable for Moustache at least...why wasn't Mr Coldby angry? or scared? In fact, he showed no emotion whatsoever, just an intense look like a scientist studying an equation on a board. Moustache was just about to gather his family and head back inside...he was in control, he held the cards, but it didn't feel like he did.

Like a showdown between two cowboys in an old west town, they stood until finally Mr Coldby smiled, but it wasn't a welcoming smile, it was a smile a cartoon alligator might give an unsuspecting fox. Mr Coldby then began to speak:

"Frankly, I'm in admiration of your tenacity, all of this displacement because of a parking spot? Amazing! I mean, you've uprooted your entire family for a quest for revenge, and you have 100% buy-in!! That's love. At least I assume that's love, I was never that confident with that emotion, never truly underatood it." He took a step towards the deck, almost unnoticeable to the family as they were hypnotized by this man's calm, smooth demeanor when he should be a paniced mess.

"And you said you told no one, planned no timeline?" he asked, to which all the family could do is slowly nod their heads 'no' as he took another step forward, now at the base of the stairs.

"You changed the lock on my gate, my locks on my door, you invaded my space. I should be furious...full of fear and rage, but really I am humbled to be standing in the presence of willpower personified!" He was now on the deck, face to face with his would-be tormentors. "I have but one complaint, or maybe suggestion is a better word..." the smile widened as he paused.

"Wh-wh-what's that?" Mr Moustache stammered, completely relinquishing any control of the scenario.

"That your lovely wife, Von Greta is it?" Von Gretta slowly nodded, lips parted ever so slightly not scared, but in admiration, lustful admiration of the ability of this man to take control of this situation, effectively cucking her husband and revenge plans before her very eyes. "Yes, the lovely Von Greta perhaps teach cartography, or geography in her home school...a class you should register for, because my name is Barry Danielson. Leonard Coldby lives about a mile north of here...right road, wrong yard."

Wife looks at husband, husband to wife, they both turn back to Barry, "What?"

"You cased the wrong yard. I've never been to Alberta, I suppose from a distance, I could be mistaken for Leo, but he's older than I am, and a drunk. Like I said earlier, this is a case of mistaken identity."

Panic was now settling in, apologies started flying from the family, meaningless nothings to Barry. "I have to ask, he chuckled, did you notice the cameras?"

The family drew silent again, "Cameras? no...we didn't see..." they looked back and forth from each other confused and if possible, even more panicy.

"HaHaHa" laughed Barry, "I installed them to be hidden, so it's a good justification of my handiwork! We had been having issues with grifters, and transient peoples in the area, so i put these special cameras in a few years ago." Barry pulled his phone from his pocket and typed in his passcode. "Look here, he pointed to a spot by the window that had clear view of the door. A small green light could be seen blinking, only after Barry had revealed the location.

"Well holy smokes!" Moustache said under his breath.

"It gets better, here...stand here!" Barry manuevered the family to directly infront of the door, "ring the doorbell!"

Moustache and wife looked at one another first, then figured that they were the assholes in this situation, so by complying, they may be able to chalk this up as a funny mistake, besides this Barry guy seemed to be taking this really well. Mrs Moustache reached out with a finger...

DINGGGG DOOONNNGGGG

They heard from inside the house. Barry, now the somewhat excited one said "Great! that's the normal setting, now when I do this..." he touched the screen of his phone, the light on the camera went from green to red. "...and when i say, push the bell again, but i'll warn you first to cover your ears, when this light is red, a really, really loud siren blares...you hear me little one? cover your ears up good!" Barry was grinning like a kid at Christmas, infecting the family with anticipation. Everyone took the precaution of holding their hands over their ears, Barry nodded to Mrs Moustache to push the doorbell button again. Her finger slowly crept toward the yellowed pastic button, everyone tensed up for the loud blast that was going to shock their world.

As her finger depressed the button, Barry's fake smile fell away to cold emotionless nuetrality, the four clicks of the trapdoor mechanism disengaging was the only sound before the shocked screams of the family escaped their mouths as they plummeted downward into the steel chute that would deposit them into the holding cell.

The trapdoor snapped shut, locks re-engaging as Barry reset the app on his phone to disarm the trap. He looked around his yard, he wasn't a religious man, but he knew a gift from God when he saw it. After he put the family's car into his shop, and fetched his truck from the end of the road, he would decide what to do with the family...he had never thought about having an heir before, continuing his legacy. Perhaps he would train the girl in his ways...then again, it had been years since he'd eaten child flesh, Le Freak smiled at the thought.