Retirement

Doorbell.

– Hello.

– Oh of course! At the old Welbury's house by the corner.

– Great people indeed. I hope they love Florida. Well, welcome to the neighborhood.

– You're welcome. I trust you've enjoyed the neighborhood so far.

– You don't say. Vandalism? That really doesn't happen often here.

– Oh, so an "egging." Yeah, I did that once or twice when I was a teenager.

– No, yes I agree – it's not funny. I regret it entirely. Did you happen to catch who did it?

– Ah, the Timmins boy. Roger's his name. Well, he used to be friends with my boy, Eric. I know he's a good kid. He just does stupid things like this from time to time. Some boys have to go through that phase, don't they?

– Um, well actually, I doubt that the next phase is terrorism. Don't you think that's a little–

– Yes, Eric was friends with Roger. They don't really see much of each other any more. Why do you–

– No, I really don't consider my son a "known unknown." I actually have no idea what you even mean by that.

– Search my house? For what?

– What difference does it make if we have eggs?

– A "breakfast of mass destruction"?

– I'm not aiding and abetting anybody, friend. I just don't want you rummaging through my kitchen for eggs.

– I seriously doubt you have a warrant.

– OK then, let me see it.

– That's handwritten. In crayon. And it's signed, "A judge."

– Hey! Get your hands off of me!

– (Grunting.) Are you...are you trying to spit in my mouth?

– (Panting.) Just…just get up and get off of my property.

– What? No, you can't have any Crisco. Is that what this was all about?