1981 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Brougham

Molly awoke some time well after midnight, to the faint thump of an object hitting a wall.  The noise startled her awake, and she wasn’t sure it had really happened until it was repeated a moment later.  After the third thump, she realized that something was hitting her house, from the outside.

Such a thing bore investigation, since it was too cold for teenagers to be throwing rolls of toilet paper, and she’d done nothing to earn a TP’ing besides.  She rolled out of bed, put a robe on, and peeked through the blinds covering her bedroom window.

“I can see you in there!” a voice screamed from outside, and something slammed into the house right next to the window.  Molly flinched back instinctively, then looked again to see that there was a woman in her front yard throwing shoes at her second-floor bedroom window.  The yard seemed to be littered with shoes, and there was a large box with more next to the crazed thrower.  She had short blond hair brushed up in a spiky cut, and Molly had never seen her before.  “Come out here, whore!”

Molly turned on a light, then opened the window, mindful that a well-aimed shoe could probably come through the screen.  “I’m sorry,” she called down.  “Do I know you?”

“Don’t play that game with me!” the woman screamed.  “I found your little love nest, and all of your goddamn shoes!”  She threw another shoe, which flew well wide of its target and bounced off of the roof. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bitch!  I know about you and Michael!”

“Who the hell is Michael?” Molly asked, questioning herself as much as the woman in her yard, whose answer was an enraged growl and another fusillade of shoes.  “Listen, I hate to tell you this, but I think you’ve got the wrong house.  I’m not even dating right now, let alone stealing your man.  I don’t know anybody named Michael.”

“Liar!”  The woman scored a direct hit on Molly’s screen with a cowboy boot, and she had to duck as the mesh tore and the garish green and yellow boot sailed into the bedroom. 

“Goddammit!  Look what you did!  Will you listen to me?  You’ve got the wrong house!”  The only response she got to this was a wordless cry of rage as the woman in her yard ran back to a car parked on the street.  She kept up a steady stream of shouted invective the entire time; Molly saw that lights across the street and next door were coming on as the neighbors woke up.  Wonderful.

“I’m going to teach you!” the crazy lady yelled again.  She ran back into the shoe-strewn front yard, carrying a small cylindrical object.  For a moment Molly thought it was a gun, but then the woman struck a match and lit the fuse, holding the object out at arm’s length.

“Jesus wept,” Molly said under her breath as a brilliant red ball of sparks seemed to leap out of the woman’s hand and raced toward the house.  It struck the wall right next to the window and exploded in a blaze of light.  The woman was shooting a Roman candle at the house.  “Jesus!” Molly cried again as the next flare hit even closer to the open window, and she slammed the glass down lest the next one end up in her bedroom.  That would be just perfect, if this crazy lady set her house on fire.  From there, Molly ran to the phone and called the police.  She struggled to keep her voice calm, hearing the soft thuds of fireworks bouncing off of her house, and the dispatcher said she’d send a car right over and advised Molly not to go outside and confront the woman.  “Oh, you think?” she shot back.

Having called for help, Molly closed the blinds and went into her guest bedroom to wait.  The end of the episode was almost anticlimactic, with the woman being taken away in a squad car and Molly’s house relatively unscathed, other than some smudges of soot.  The shoes stayed in the front yard.  Molly’s pride, on the other hand, was seriously shaky by the time the police left.  Not only had they been called to her house for the second time in two days, but they assumed that she really had been cheating with this woman’s husband, and the thought rankled.  Not to mention the neighbors, who were abuzz with theories as to what was going on–and half of them probably assumed she’d been banging the mysterious Michael, too.  Mortifying.  At this rate, she was going to have to find a new place to live.