10:16 p.m., The Night Before

Ted turned off the TV and let the remote clatter to the floor. Groaning, he passed his hands over his eyes, then massaged his temples. He'd realized too late that he'd had a couple too many, and a headache would be greeting him in the morning. For now, he would just lie on the couch and wait until the fuzzy vision swam away. After a couple of minutes, his head would be clear and he could go make that coffee.

But two hours later, snores could still be heard coming from the Franklins' new living room. No one saw the glass chandelier swaying gently overhead, despite the lack of a breeze.

9:12 a.m., Day 1

"Come on, honey," Heather Franklin groaned, opening a new box of Cheerios. "Drinking by yourself in front of the TV? I mean, what if I'd left the baby here with you?"

"Well, of course I wouldn't have been drinking then." Ted yawned loudly, and scratched his ass.

"You'll have to get back into the work routine pretty soon, too," Heather called from the kitchen, pouring milk for the baby.

"I'll be fine, thank you." Ted rolled his eyes and pulled his blanket tightly around his shoulders. The fabric was slightly too short, and one foot poked out of his cocoon.

"I mean, I don't think you have a problem or anything, I just—" Heather stopped short as she entered the room. She slowly stepped closer to her husband. "Babe…?"

"What?" Ted turned toward her, then followed her eyes down to the foot of the couch. "What in-?"

"What is this?" Heather asked, irritation in her voice. "You had more fun than I thought, I guess?" She gestured dramatically to her husband's toenails, which were painted a garish, blood red.

Ted looked up in shock, confusion and embarrassment vying for dominance on his face. "What happened?"

Heather threw up her hands. "Oh, yeah, I guess you'll tell me you don't remember? That's real good."

"Real good?" Ted's blood pressure rose in indignation. "What, are you implying that I know more than you do about this?"

"I think I am," she snapped, heading back to the kitchen as the baby began to cry for his breakfast from the highchair.

"This is really funny, Heather, I'm cracking up!" Ted shot back, frantically trying to rub the dried polish from his nails. "I get it, I'll get rid of the beer, okay?"

"Nice try! Tell me what really happened!" Her voice could be heard from the other room. She heard her husband stumble towards the bathroom and open the cabinets, probably searching for her nail polish remover.

"Yes, this is what it looks like when Daddy really tries to pull it together for our new life in this house," Heather baby-talked to her son, moving to the laundry room past the kitchen. Baby Alfie chortled, and his eyes seemed to be following the air behind his mother as she measured a cup of detergent.

Heather continued, bending over to fill the washer with a load of whites. "And when he—ouch!" She grabbed her right hind cheek and whirled around. The smack had been so loud that it almost echoed, but there was no one there. "Face me like a man, Theodore!" she shouted, wincing and rubbing away the pain.

"What?" Ted hopped into the room with a foot in his hands, and moist red cottonballs in his other hand. "Did you call me?"

Heather stared at him with uncertainty. "Just…don't touch me right now, okay?"

Ted raised his eyebrows. "Oh…kay?"

Little Alfie chortled again, looking in the middle of the room as his parents went their separate ways.

3:10 a.m., Day 2

The bureau and the dresser drawers in Mr. and Mrs. Franklin's bedroom slowly opened. The resulting creaks were quiet enough so that no one in the house was disturbed. Heather's knees lifted as she slept, and the sheets ruffled. Ted turned over and muttered in his sleep.

3:14 a.m., Day 2

The task finished, the bureau and the dresser drawers begin to close as gently as they opened, ending with a final click of the latch.

8:31 a.m., Day 2

Ted groaned in annoyance, half-awake and half-asleep.. Once again, his bladder had roused him from his slumber, quite insistent this time. He stumbled to the bathroom, leaning against the wall for support. His mission completed, he shuffled old man-style out of the bathroom, back over to his side of the bed, past the bedroom mirror, and collapsed back into—

Change of plans. Ted suddenly found himself wide awake.

"Heather!" Ted screamed. "What in hell is going on? Are you doing this to me?"

Heather leaped out of bed, bug-eyed, assuming a defensive stance that she'd learned in fifth grade karate. "What, who is it?" Her stance did not relax when she took in her husband's appearance.

Ted was dressed from head to foot in Heather's lingerie, the pink-and-white variety that had been gathering dust since their honeymoon. Heather cringed to see that he was actually pulling it off…the suspenders were adjusted to the correct length, and the bracelets and makeup went great with his skin tone.

"Um…is this supposed to turn me on?" Heather asked uncertainly. Ted was looking at her strangely, too distracted to answer.

"I was wondering where those got to," Ted said with fondness. "I'm wearing those every night from now on."

Heather looked down and shrieked, dusting off the Mickey Mouse onesie men's pajamas she was wearing, like she would come out of it if she rubbed hard enough. She felt a tickle on her lower lip, felt it tentatively, and ripped off the fake mustache with disgust.

"Haven't you had enough?" she screamed. "Why?"

"I have nothing to do with this!" he yelled. "You think I know how to put on makeup like this?"

No. He definitely did not. "It wasn't me," Heather said, subdued now. "You know what a klutz I am. How could I put you in that thing without you even waking up?"

Neither of them spoke. Suddenly Ted yelled, "Alfie!"

Heather screamed again, tripping over the laundry in her run to the baby's room. Relieved to hear the familiar sound of her son's giggling, she walked the rest of the way to his crib, and then…-

"Oh god," she groaned, picking him up gingerly. She had to hold him away from her, for fear that his rainbow-colored spiked Mohawk would cut into her skin.

"What are we going to do?" Ted asked. "We have to do the exact opposite of what the people in the horror movies do, because they always get killed off one at a time. Do we get a better security system? Do we move?"

Heather shook with uncertainty, and a desperate need for a distraction. "Let's clean ourselves up first," she said. "I don't know…I don't know…"

12:05 p.m., Day Three

"I still don't know," Heather said, swirling the last of her coffee around the bottom of her cup. "At least there was no incident today. Yesterday and the day before, everything happened when we woke up, but what, does the ghost take off Sundays? We'll have to wait and see, I guess."

Alfie giggled, watching a point in the air in front of him. Heather worried that he may need a vision test. What was he focusing on?

The doorbell rang, and Ted went to answer it. "Hi," he said cheerfully to a group of strangers.

They gaped back at him.

Ted nodded uncertainly. "What…can I do for you folks?"

One woman spoke up timidly from the back of the group. "We're kind of like a welcoming committee, you might say. We wanted to bring you a care package since you're new to the neighborhood. We…we're looking forward to living with such a…next to people who are so creative."

"Well, thank you, my wife and I appreciate this," Ted said, and took the package. "Glad you've decided that we're creative."

"Such an interesting shade of pink," a mousy woman said with a smile that was slightly too wide.

Ted frowned, followed her gaze, and jumped in astonishment. "Heather!" he yelled.

The entire outside of the house was painted florescent pink with white polka dots. A disco ball reflected the sunlight in the far left corner.

Heather arrived, and recovered far quicker than Ted did. "Yes, the only thing missing is the confetti we're buying this afternoon," she said smoothly. "Thanks so much for the basket of wine."

"It's cookies, sorry," an older man answered. "Well…welcome to Mockingbird Drive!"

At this, the chandelier in the living room began swaying wildly, and Heather covered her mouth in fear.

"Thank you, thank you!" she yelled and closed the door, a little too hard. "I can't stand this, Ted! We're getting a motel room!"

"Fine. Get packed," he said simply. Then he heard a soft turn in the lock. He darted his hand to the doorknob. "Dear god, it's locked," he said in panic. "I can't budge it."

"The windows!" But Ted was too late. Heather picked up the phone and heard nothing.

"Let's just—let's just—"Heather sobbed.

"Get Alfie from his chair," Ted ordered. "We'll stay next to this wall and wait for its next move."

4:55 p.m., Day Three

"I'm starting to feel stupid. There's got to be something we can do," Heather said. Alfie smiled and clapped his hands.

"Do you hear that?" Ted asked, on the alert once more. "It's like a squeak." He grabbed the baseball bat and slowly approached the bedroom.

"Don't go, Ted, don't leave me!" Heather shrieked. "The ghost can use that bat against you!"

"I'm the man of the house," he said to her. He approached the door…then kicked it in suddenly.

"Ahhh!" he yelled, and was silent.

"What is it, Ted?" Heather screamed. Silence. "Ted! Ted!" Heather was forced to join him in the bedroom, gripping baby Alfie, determined to protect him with her very life.

Ted was gazing in astonishment at a message across the bedroom walls. Written in bold red lipstick were the words:

sorry i thoght this was 128 mockingbird lane, not mockingbird drive. this is not my asignment i will leave now.

The couple stared at it for a full two minutes.

"Oh, dear," Heather said.

Ted blew out a breath. "Well, that's that, then." The two sat on the bed mutely. They heard the sound of the doors and windows unlocking.

Baby Alfie began to cry.