An eerie scratching sound disturbed Mr. Smith’s peaceful slumber. It took several moments for him to realize that the sound was really happening, and not just his imagination trying to sabotage his last remaining winks. The scratching continued steadily as before but in far too random of a manner to have been the wind brushing a tree limb against the house or something inanimate. Someone was at the door. He raised up from his pillow and strained to read the digital clock on the nightstand. The time was 5:12 AM. “Who in the hell would be at my door at this hour?”; he lamented. As before, the scratching continued on, unabated. He quickly put on a robe and went downstairs dreading the bad news that was sure befall any unexpected visit at 5:12 AM. Without thinking, he unlocked and opened the door in rapid fire succession. In the split second that it took for the door to open up he realized that he hadn’t even checked to see who it was. Now the door was completely ajar and it was far too late to do anything about his breach in personal security. His eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness outside the doorstep and eventually he became aware of his early morning visitor.... at least the outline of him. Trying hard to not sound nervous or scared, he asked the looming figure dressed entirely in black from head to foot what he wanted. The visitor’s facial features were completely hidden from view in the darkness of his hood. Without uttering a single word, the visitor reached into his robe as if to retrieve something. Mr. Smith recoiled in fear and braced for the impact of flying bullets from an automatic machine-gun or whatever lay hidden beneath the visitor’s rainament. Instead of some weapon of personal destruction, the visitor withdrew a yellowed scroll of paper and handed it to Mr. Smith. Without so much asa sound the dark visitor whirled around and proceeded to walk away with a stiff gait and creaking sound. With a palpitating heart, Mr. Smith watched the Visitor mount a white horse and gallop into the night’s darkness. After the initial shock on the past few minutes bizarre events wore off, he stepped back inside and dead bolted the door. Once inside the safety of his locked home he summoned the courage to examine the contents of thescroll and gaze upon its secrets. His heart raced as he unrolled the paper. At that instant the Grandfather clock chimed its 5:30 tone and half scarred him out of his wits. He wanted to laugh and pretend that it was funny but he didn’t. He reached for a lamp switch and held the scroll in its light. It contained only the following statement: “Eat at Joe’s” in large lettering and “form # 6” at the bottom left corner in small type. Mr. Smith remained inthat same position viewing the paper until sunrise; only occasionally shiftingweight from one leg to the other. He flipped it over numerous times tosurvey the back in hopes of that there were more clues to its purpose orthe reason for the clandestine visit less than an hour earlier. His alarm clock went off upstairs and snapped him out of his daze. He got ready for work with the events on 5:12 AM dominating his thoughts. After makingthe mistake of telling his coworkers they all kidded him in predictable ways about his “obvious late night drinking binges”. The more he thought about it, he realized he wouldn’t believe it either and considering that no real harm came from it, decided to write it off as a college prank or a dream. I tell you now however, it DID happen and it was no prank! Lunch hour rolled around and Mr. Smith had his mind set on spaghetti at Mrs. Paganni’s Restraurant. He was nearly there when he stopped at a red light. A sign painter was working on the marquee of a previously abandoned building. While he was in front of that sign rendering it unreadable, another one was clearly visible: “Now serving lunch”. Outraged, he didn’t even have to see the other sign to know what it said! “So, they think they can drum up business by shocking people into trying their food by scarring hard working people out of their beds at dawn, huh? Well, I’ll just let them know what I think about their ‘modern advertising ideas’!” He wheeled his car into theparking lot and demanded to see the manager in his best angry fit ever. The young lady behind the counter told him that the manager was gone into town to get some supplies for the Grand Opening, and wouldn’t be back for a while. Mr. Smith realized that she probably didn’t have anything to do with her bosses’ rude advertising tactics and began to feel embarrassed at his earlier behavior toward her. Finally his growling stomach and dwindling lunch hour took priority over his pride. Chuckling out loud, he decided that ‘if he couldn’t beat them.... he’d join them’. “As crazy as their stunt that morning was; it did get him in the front door and that was the mark of a good business.”; he thought to himself. His food soon arrived and he began to devour it eagerly. About halfway through he began to choke on a piece of food lodged in his throat. In his last gasps for breath, all the sinister events of that early morning began to pass through his mind. The last thing he saw was the evil grin of his visitor. Even the Grim Reaper works in mysterious ways!
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