It all started on a misty June morning. Mr. Foos, who wasn’t the most popular neighbor on the block, was dwelling in his broken down house. Through the window, I could see him sitting down at his dinner table reading what looked like an old newspaper. The expression on his face showed that he was irritated at something. I saw him pick up a knife that was covered in what looked like blood. I told my self it must have been tomato sauce or something. Although curious about the knife, I snapped back to reality and glanced at my watch. “Oh no, It’s 10:15 I’m late again!”

I hurried next door to Ms. Crimson’s place for my piano lessons. For being a 67 year old, Ms. Crimson was very sharp, but sweet. Oh and was she ever firm on being on time. “I’m sorry; I’m only 15 minutes late.” “Now Patrick Kevin Peterson, I’ve told you a million times how important it is to be on time. I could just kill you sometimes. Oh and your mother is paying good money for these lessons. Kids these days!” Whoa, I knew I was in trouble when anyone used my whole name. Yikes! I knew that had to mean I was doing piano lessons all day. I guess I can say good-bye to playing x-box after lessons. Although Ms. Crimson was aggravated with me, she offered me a sugar cookie. I played the piano for hours and hours and finally went home with a tummy ache. I guess it was from staring at the piano all day. I went home and went straight to bed.

After a long night of trying to sleep off my stomach pains, I woke up to a new morning. I went to WaffleWonders for breakfast. I ordered Blueberry waffles with extra syrup. The paperboy handed me the paper for a quarter. I was reading the comic’s for a while, then I turned the page and they had the obituaries I noticed that 17-year-old Sammy Danielson had died last night. He was my good friend since 2nd grade. My eyes started to water up. I threw the paper down and ran out. I sat on the side of the street, trying to hide my tears. Then I decided to head home.

On the way back, I thought I would stop by Sammy’s house. But before I reached the door, I noticed Mr. Foos was knocking on the Danielson’s front door. When the door opened, he started yelling at Mrs. Danielson about a roller blade of Sammy’s that was left on his lawn two days ago. In tears Mrs. Danielson shouted, “He’s dead!” With a smirk Mr. Foos said, “I know, I was just returning the dead brats roller skate.” Mrs. Danielson shouted, “Don’t come knocking on my door ever again. You’re just a damned neighbor that is heartless!” She slammed the door with fury. Mr. Foos walked away with a grin and was heading towards his rat hole that he called home.

I decided to follow him. He past his place and he stopped at my house. He walked around to the back of the house. Watching from afar, I saw him looking inside my window, as if he was looking for me. He walked back towards the front of the house and muttered to himself, “Those damned neighbors can’t even keep that brat in his room.” Then he headed towards his place. When he finally reaches it, he goes inside, and slams the door behind him.

Puzzled more than ever, I go to Ms. Crimsons house and decide maybe playing the piano will help clear my mind. Today, she offered me peanut butter cookies. I must have eaten a whole batch! I went towards the front door to leave, I opened the door walked about 20 steps, and then hit the ground. I think to myself Poison! My damn neighbor and so-called piano teacher put poison in my cookies. Two hours later, Mr. Foos came out for his evening stroll and noticed that Patrick was dead. Earlier that day, he was trying to warn Patrick of Ms. Crimson’s killing ways. He was an undercover detective and had figured out that she was the one who killed Sammy. He acted cruel so no one would suspect him as the detective. I guess you never know who your neighbors are. So watch out who’s knocking at your door!