Three pairs of eyes zeroed in on Sam, waiting for his reply. "Uh...I'm Sam...he's Dean," he stammered, nodding his head toward his brother's location.

Caleb's smile was huge and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Aw, I was just messin' with ya." He then reached out to shake Sam's hand then Dean's once he came around the front of the car. "Man...'bout time I finally get to meet you all face to face..." Caleb pointedly studied each Winchester boy "...but not in the literal sense...shit, John, did your kids have to be so tall too?"

Dean and Sam grinned at their dad who glanced up from his current position behind the raised trunk and shrugged his shoulders.

Caleb gently shook his head, indicating 'whatever', faced Sam once again and narrowed his eyes. "Wow...Sam, you sure look like your daddy."

Dean laughed at that, "yeah...except for the scrawny build."

Sam's eyebrows shot up, amused look disappeared as his jaw slightly dropped in surprise; it was the first time anyone ever told him that. "Really?" he murmured to himself.

Ever amazed at desert scenery, Dean slowly spun around with one hand shading his eyes from the bright solar glare. Caleb's backyard was a vast expanse; there was just land, upon vast and barren land. "This really is the middle of nowhere."

"Welcome to my world," Caleb said, wiping his forehead. "But for now...let's get out of this damn heat."

Caleb motioned toward the door of his house and the Winchesters eagerly took turns grabbing their belongings from the back of the car then followed him inside.

Upon stepping over the threshold, John noticed the sparsely furnished living room. There was a sofa, loveseat, lamp on a nearby round table and a modest television in the far corner. The cream colored walls appeared more tan due to the fact that the shades were still down.

"Feels so good in here," Dean commented with a satisfied sigh from behind John.

Sam had been the one to close the trunk and so was the last to enter. "You must have central air."

"Hell yeah, don't know what I'd do without it. Would have to move up north if I had to rely on window units...I would never use them, they're too noisy...would never hear if someone tried to break in." Caleb turned to John and pointed out, "now, the kitchen, as you can see, is off to the left and a small bathroom is just down the hall. It'll be a little tight...one of my three bedrooms upstairs is used to store all my weapons. You all can figure out who sleeps where in the other two bedrooms."

John frowned. "And where are you going to sleep?"

"Sofa city," Caleb winked. "Go on now...make yourselves at home."

John and Sam followed Dean up to the second level. A quick glance to the left revealed the weapons storage room Caleb spoke of so Dean veered to the right, passed a full bathroom and walked into the bedroom he saw had two beds. "Caleb must have guests often...no way he'd go out and get beds just for us."

"I'll take the full size one," said Sam as he quickly pushed his way in, plopped down on it and leaned back, testing it out.

Dean tossed his duffel bag onto the adjacent twin bed and yanked it open. "Okay."

''Okay'...'okay'?' Sam sat back up when Dean didn't immediately retract the affirmation or attach conditions. 'Dean's being generous...he doesn't do generous.'

Sam was stunned to see a pleasant countenance on Dean even while he was picking out clothes from his bag, one at a time; he sniffed each one and tossed them onto the floor.

"You're in a good mood...what's got you all keyed up?"

Dean's eyebrows lifted, he could not believe his brother asked that and flung the shirt currently in his grasp at Sam. "We're now officially on another case, dumbass," Dean answered.

Sam huffed in disgust and hastily brushed the dirty article of clothing off his head. "It's only been three days!"

"Yeah, well..."

John appeared in their doorway, as if out of nowhere, and took in the scene. "Don't get too comfortable just yet...come down and get something to eat..." John tilted his head toward the pile by Dean "...then clean up your mess...Caleb has a washer and dryer."

Caleb had just set some waffles into the toaster when the Winchester's joined him in the kitchen, seating themselves around the rather large round wooden table.

"So what do ya think about the situation?" Caleb asked, placing a syrup bottle in arms reach of everyone.

"Could be some type of demon," John replied.

"Or could be a witch," Sam reasoned. "Witches kill for different reasons, to stay young, for revenge...you name it."

"I hate friggin' witches," Dean said with a sneer.

Caleb paused in case Dean wanted to elaborate and the room was suddenly filled with silence. He looked around and beheld all of his guests slouched in their seats, lost in their own thoughts; the sight made him chuckle. "Well...I took a week's vacation from work, so if you need me to help with anything, just let me know."

Dean straightened in his chair. "You work for a casino, right?"

"I work for the security, surveillance division," Caleb said, placing a cup of coffee then a plate of waffles at each place.

Sam fidgeted in his seat, stated, "thanks, Caleb...I'll get the dishes when we're done," and surrreptitiously kicked his brother's chair.

Dean instantly looked up and mumbled with his mouth full, "yeah, thanks Caleb."

Sam shook his head at not getting the response he was hoping for. He just hunched over his food, forked a piece into his mouth and said nothing more.

Caleb nodded, sat between Dean and John. "Well don't get used to this service...from now on, you just make yourself at home."

"Thanks, Caleb," John repeated then the room became silent once again while everyone ate.

Five minutes later, John set down his utensil on an empty plate. "I say we first get in to the morgue...see the body before too much more time goes by."

Dean's face brightened. "Good idea," he said around another mouthful of food.

The eldest Winchester stood up and focused on his boys. "Meanwhile, you two are to shower then rest."

Sam glanced up at that, just in time to see his brother's face fall as he swallowed.

"What about you?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine...I can rest later."

"Dad, I'm not tired."

"Dean..." John spun around just as he was about to leave the room "...I said, 'No'."

"Besides," Caleb added, straightening up himself. "There's no time to make your badges, not to mention the fact that you look like a nineteen year old."

"Only 'coz you know he's nineteen," grumbled Sam.

John pointed a finger at Sam. "You watch your attitude."

Caleb washed down his bite and said, "I already got the intel on the vics and where they lived, worked, their families. I swung by the third vics house earlier...it is still crawling with crime scene detectives."

"Dad's worked in those situations before," Sam informed Caleb then looked at his father. "Dean and I can sneak in and look for hex bags...the place is still hot and it's better to find any clues sooner than later...really want to know what we're dealing with."

John sighed in an effort to maintain his temper, his eyes tracking between Dean and Sam as he spoke. "Later we'll all check out the vics' homes...interview the families. I won't say it again...you boys rest...you're no good to me like this. Now, one of you go to the car and get my suit...I'll need it," John added as he turned back around. "I'll be taking a shower."

He then glanced over his shoulder at Caleb, said, "I should be ready in about fifteen minutes," and proceeded upstairs.

"I'll call the hospital and let them know the 'CDC' is on it's way."

Sam set his mug down loudly. "But..." he persisted.

Dean jumped out of his chair and patted his brother on the back, pushing him toward the kitchen exit. "Sam, Dad's right...I'm exhausted and I can't sleep until you do."

More forcibly than was required, Dean dragged his brother outside to retrieve what their father requested. They both groaned upon smacking into the wall of heat, squinted their eyes against the sudden assault of bright light.

"Why didn't you try harder to go?" Sam hissed, following behind Dean. "They could've worked something out."

Without a word, Dean closed the distance to the car, unlocked the trunk, and bent down to grab the intended duffel. Dean then gave Sam a scathing stare and whipped the suit bag at him.

Sam reflexively caught it with a perplexed expression. "What?"

"Never argue with Dad in front of someone else," Dean spat then, without a backward glance, he stormed right to the house and stated, "I'm gonna take the next shower."

Sam knew then he had better give Dean his space.

Several minutes passed. Towel wrapped around his hips, a freshly scrubbed John stepped out of the bathroom and strode by his boys' room. A sidelong glance showed Dean was in there; he was rummaging through his duffel bag, his back to the door. Caleb's voice rose up from downstairs, distant and low - he could only make out the word "tv". 'Sam must be down there...avoiding Dean,' he thought as he continued to his room.

That was fine with John - the less drama before he left, the better. But he wished it was Dean below instead; he was not looking forward to being the subject of Sam's predictable glare following him out when he left. John sighed and reached for his suit hanging on his bedroom door hook.

0000000000000000000000

The air conditioner cranked up to its highest level was the only sound inside the car. Riding shotgun in Caleb's dark green Ford Explorer on the way to the hospital, John remained silent and appeared to be watching the scenery passing by. Caleb postulated his friend's aloofness was brought on by the earlier tension between John and Sam.

"Fucking demons!" John growled.

Caleb flinched slightly at his friend's sudden outburst.

"Excuse me?"

John was looking down at his feet now, his expression remained hidden. "I am kinda hoping Sam is right about this...that it is a witch doing this."

Caleb was taken aback; his theory, that John had been contemplating Sam and his teenaged angst, was crushed. He hurried to come up with a reply, but it was not too hard to do for this was a subject that played in his mind ever since he met the man. "John, I don't know why you don't go after demons or tell your sons about them."

"Oh, they know about demons...theoretically...thanks mostly to Bobby, though he's never actually told them what happened to him..." John shuddered "...those demon sons of bitches chew and spit out most people. I have to be sure that when demons try to sink their teeth into them, Sam and Dean will make them choke. No...now is just not the right time for them to hunt demons...they're not ready."

"Are you sure that it's wise to wait?"

"Dean's almost there but Sam is really only just starting out...they both need more training. You know, just after you called, I felt my boys could handle a case involving a demon but while driving across the country, I started to have my doubts...plus Dean thinks Sam should at least wait. If it is a demon, I'm sending both boys away."

"You know Bobby's the go to guy when it comes to demons, why not call him if that's what this is?"

"We're on the outs more often than not, but I would...especially for the sake of protecting my boys."

"No offense...but I'm glad I don't have kids."

"Fuck you," John replied without venom.

"Hey, that's actually a compliment...I admire parents...raising kids is a tough job...especially alone."

"If I had known what was coming, I never would've had them," John whispered.

Caleb's jaw dropped and he whipped his head around to confront John. But he found his friend was back to focusing on the scenery speeding by outside his passenger window. Caleb considered the statement, shrugged and felt that John must just be tired and had not really meant to say it.

Caleb then decided it was a good time to change the subject. "About a month ago, I stopped by the Roadhouse."

John straightened in his seat and asked, "how're Ellen and Jo?"

"They're holding up fine."

"Good to know."

"I saw Martin...he says to say 'hey'."

John smiled slightly. "That putz? He still hunting?"

"Oh, yeah." Caleb paused, looked over his left shoulder as he changed lanes. He then asked, "so what were you doing in Amherst a few days ago?"

"We were hunting a poltergeist..." John opened his mouth as if to verbalize more but remained silent.

"Great...and?"

"...everything was by the book. Dean and Sam pretty much ran the show for this...I was very proud of them."

Caleb sighed. "John, I work in the security business...I can tell there's something you're not telling me."

John fixed Caleb with a piercing stare. "You're good," he said then faced to the front. "While in Amherst, I left the boys alone for a couple of days...sudden, with no warning, no word...man, were they pissed."

"What happened?"

"I saw a woman who looked just like Mary and I'm gonna only say two words...drunken blackout."

Caleb smirked and shook his head. "Any leads on the thing that killed her?"

"Nothing specific...but the more things I hunt, the more I narrow it down...demon is now looking like the culprit."

"Back to demons again."

John fixed Caleb with a glare. "This is strictly between you and me."

"Of course," Caleb said. "That reminds me...at the Roadhouse, I crossed paths with someone who knows someone by the name of Elkins...he's been claiming there's a gun out there that can kill demons...said someone a long time ago was looking for it for that reason...said it was a Colt."

"Any idea where this Elkins guy lives?" John asked as Caleb took the turn off and pulled into the hospital lot and parked the car.

"Somewhere in Colorado..."

Both men got out and faced each other over the top of the vehicle.

Caleb added, "...I didn't think much of the story it but I can ask around if you're interested."

John nodded, a distant look in his eyes. "Might be."

Sweltering in their suits, each man shared one last a look which communicated a desire to get indoors; they hurried to get out of the heat with Caleb guiding the way to the entrance.

"Do you know what you're gonna say?" Caleb asked once through.

John straightened his tie and said, "I've done this many times...it's always pretty much the same dialogue...just follow my lead."

At the front desk, John cleared his throat to get the woman's attention. "Hi, I'm Dr. Ford and this is Dr. Fisher...would you please direct us to the morgue." He and Caleb then presented their 'Center for Disease Control' badges and even bigger smiles which bought them unquestioned access to their destination.

"Oh, yes," the receptionist said. "I was told to expect you. Just take your first left here, take a right at the end of the hall and you will find an elevator...go to the basement level and follow the signs to the morgue...I will notify one of the doctors on the case you are coming."

"Thank you," Caleb replied.

He and John continued on as directed and moments later arrived to find a man with a white coat standing by the last door. Upon seeing them, he came to attention and held out his hand. "Gentlemen, I am Dr. White."

"Thank you for seeing us..." John leaned in and grasped his hand "...with little prior notification."

"Well, I appreciate your coming in but I was expecting a Dr. Johnson."

"He may arrive later on but we were in the general area."

Dr. White nodded. "Alright. Well, please follow me."

John and Caleb were guided to a far wall of metal drawers; the third one up on the left was opened to reveal a body with the markings of a recent autopsy.

"This is the latest case...Andrew Spellman, age forty-nine...in excellent health one day and found dead the next."

"May we have a copy of each man's file?" Caleb asked.

"Of course...," the doctor frowned "...it's standard procedure..." he walked to the shelves along the adjacent wall and reached for the three folders "...I have them ready right here."

John received them as they were presented to him. "Has this body been cleaned yet for the purpose of a wake?"

"No. The family are requesting a cremation for him."

"Thank you, Dr. White. We have no further questions."

"And we have no answers...it's the damnedest case." Dr. White glanced at John and Caleb standing there, staring down at the corpse. "Alright, well, I leave you to it then," he said then strode out of the room.

John handed Caleb the files and donned a pair of latex gloves. He carefully inspected the body lying before them starting with the head.

Caleb anxiously looked on, transfixed by the still figure on the table. 'Did I just see its arm just twitch?' To him, the body seemed to emanate some vibration of life, seemed as if its eyes could blink open any second. Caleb squeezed his eyes shut then focused on the examination John was performing, thankful he was not doing this alone.

As soon as John passed over the victim's hip and thigh area, he straightened up and shook his head. "I think I can rule out a succubus."

"Time to go, right?" Caleb asked in response.

"Yeah."

0000000000000000000

Sprawled on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest, Sam had given his dad the best turbulent expression of which he was capable and, of course, was ignored. No sooner had Caleb left with his dad when Sam heard Dean bring himself out of their bedroom, into the bathroom and the soft click of the door as it was shut. Sam sighed loudly and a quick glance of his watch told him it was approximately ten o'clock. Water was turned on upstairs and Sam decided he was going to use the few minutes he had to get a better look at Caleb's supply room; 'nothing usually is good on now, anyway.'

Sam stood just outside the doorway, eyes brushing over the various collection of munitions and weapons, some of which he recognized: rifles, semi-automatic handguns, grenades. He was fascinated by it all but knew not to handle anything...

...then spied a gallon size paint can with 'experimental cleaner' scrawled on it with thick black marker. 'What's the harm in checking that out?' Without another thought, he stepped into the room and reached out to lift the lid for a peak inside. Sam felt a bit of residue on the top then suddenly, the tips of his fingers started to sting, lightly at first but its intensity rapidly increased.

"Shit!" Sam cried. He yanked his now burning hand back, clutched it to his chest, and rushed back down the stairs. A split second later he had arrived before the kitchen sink, forced up the faucet and was momentarily stunned when something cold splashed him in the face and sprayed past him. "Fuck!" escaped from his lips, dripping wet from the stream of water coming from his bangs and rolling down his shut eyes and on to his nose.

Sam angled his head away from the direct assault, half-opened his eyes and saw that source was the spray hose. He immediately lunged forward and pushed down on the faucet. Water no longer gushing towrd him, Sam was able to inspect the nozzle closely and saw that the mechanism had gotten stuck somehow.

'Dean...if you did this, you are such a child,' Sam thought quickly before having his burning fingers call back his attention; the affected area was very reddened by now. Without wasting any time trying to fix the problem, Sam bent the hose down and used that to wash off the toxic chemicals on his hand. He flushed the skin for five minutes before detecting some relief.

Just as he turned off the water he heard his brother yelling "Sam!"

Sam sped upstairs, was about to pound on the door when it suddenly opened. He stumbled inside and nearly squished Dean against the opposite wall. Sam immediately righted himself and, slightly out of breath, said, "Dean..." observed his brother standing there, stark naked and dripping wet "...what the hell?"

"Aw...were you worried about me, Sammy?" Dean said in a mocking voice then changed his tone, gesturing wildly. "Thanks for taking all the towels!"

Dean was not modest; he made no attempt to cover himself and was starting to show signs of being cold. Sam tried not to laugh. "I did not! I swear!"

"Don't piss me off...they couldn't have all gotten up on their own and walked out!"

"So then how..." Sam looked past Dean's shoulder into the opened linen closet, saw that it was, in fact empty "...hey! I'll see if I can find the one Dad used." Sam turned out of the bathroom and strode to John's room, scanning around until he caught sight of a towel hanging over the back of a chair. He snatched it and called out, "how could you take a shower without making sure you had a towel, Dean?" as he made his way back to his brother.

"I did have one..." Dean's expression suddenly was one of puzzlement "...I'm pretty sure."

Sam held it out for Dean to take and reasoned, "you must be tired."

Dean held up the towel, saw it was on the small side and could not manage to cover much more than his front end.

A strangled sound escaped from the back of Sam's throat and Dean looked back up, his glare even more intense. "What the hell are you lookin' at?"

Sam could not hold back any longer and burst out laughing. "You look so fucking ridiculous!" Sam uttered between gasps.

It was then Dean really saw Sam - his face and shirt were rather wet. "I look ridiculous? What about what happened to you?"

The brothers' eyes met, Sam's sparkling with the humor of it all. Dean's pursed lips slowly spread into a smile as he picked up on Sam's mood.

"At least I have the sense to take off my clothes when I take a shower," Dean quipped. Both brothers succumbed to another round of laughter until, moments later, Dean looked down slightly and immediately frowned. "What happened to your hand?"

"I...I was...burned...by some chemicals in Caleb's supply room."

"Serves you right...doing something you shouldn't have."

"Whatever...I better clean up the kitchen before they get back."

"No...we treat your burn first...I have some cream in my bag." With one hand Dean pushed Sam toward their room, with the other hand he held the precariously placed towel in place.

"No, first you get dressed."

000000000000000000

Sitting behind the wheel of her newly aquired red Mustang, a shadow came into view. "Damn it," Meg whispered.

Meg knew right away it was her brother, called Ian, who was heading her way. His presence was not a good sign, for lately any time he appeared it was because he was sent to keep her in line.

The shadow grew steadily larger as he crept closer to the passenger side, yanked open the door and slid smoothly onto the seat. Only when he slammed the door shut did she school her sneer and face her brother who was this time beneath the skin of an average looking male with brown hair wearing a tank top and khaki shorts. Just short of batting her eyelashes, she attempted to convey innocence.

He returned her look with a furious expression. "What do you think you're doing?" he spat, deadly serious.

Meg pouted. "What...can't I have any fun while I do my job?"

"We're not so sure you're really working at all...the gas station in New York?...the rest stop in Missouri?...and now why is our key player dead?"

Meg tensed and narrowed her eyes into mere slits. "'Our'? This is my mission, not yours."

"Just 'coz you're wearing a female doesn't make you any better suited to getting the Winchester boy's semen."

"Oh no...you're not getting it...I know how you like to do it...you'd ruin him! If you weren't my brother, I'd want to kill you."

Ian shrugged at that. "What happened to the plan with the witch?"

"She refused to cooperate...fear didn't work, bullying didn't work."

"Diplomacy was never your strong suit."

"Give me a break. I even made up some story about how I couldn't do it because I can't control the flickering lights."

Her brother scoffed. "She was a witch, Meg. They all know that we demons cause lights to flicker, leave sulfur behind only when we want to reveal our presence...leave a trail." A thought came to him and he looked at her with suspicion. "You haven't been doing that, have you?"

"Just a couple of lights," Meg conceded and hastily added, "I only just found out this was to be a totally covert operation."

"You really shouldn't have killed her."

"Look, Ruby needs Sam's semen to work her spell..."

"On a first name basis, are we?"

"...something about needing to influence him someday...and it doesn't matter how you get it. He's just the right age, susceptible to a woman's charms...I don't need any witch's potions. I can do this with out revealing our involvement."

"That means your toying with them has to stop."

"Fine," Meg snarled. "Why are you so scared of them anyway?"

"I am not scared," Ian answered evenly. "I am concerned and you should be, too. Of all the people we've tangled with, only the Winchesters have been actively searching for us. We need to be careful."

"Why, there's nothing that can kill us."

"Don't be so sure. The father has gotten close...he's the only one who won't let bygones be bygones...but it's been a while and I'm starting to think he's moved on. I will say the good thing in all of this is that you managed to do something useful by bugging his car a few days ago...learn anything yet?"

"Winchester's sons are the most codependent siblings I have ever seen and I have seen a lot of people."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"You're not developing a soft spot for the Winchester boy, are you? To me he's just an ant; don't know why you and Azazel think of him as so much more. You know, I'll take you right back to hell myself if you screw this up..."

Meg sighed. "You're not nearly as fun as I am but know this...I'll kill him and his boys if they ever really tried to come after us. Look my father comes first and these Winchesters should be destroyed before they ever try to hurt him."

"Azazel says not to interact with them...and now the witch can't do the job thanks to you. I just got done meeting with him, had to calm him down for your sake...so what's my reward?"

"Well you missed a good show," Meg teased. "You should've seen the look on Sam's face just now."

Ian shook his head in disgust over her response. 'I don't think Meg is all that serious about this...time to call on some help, call in a few favors," he thought to his reflection, admiring the handsome face in the side view mirror. He reached for the door handle, opened it and before stepping out, turned back to Meg and said, "you know, you really should take better care of your host...shouldn't be sitting too long in a closed car in this kind of heat."

000000000000000

The brothers were sleeping by the time John and Caleb returned to the house. Both immediately changed out of their suits then John decided he was exhausted and shut himself in his room for three hours. Caleb passed the time watching classic movies.

Later that day, the four men sat around the kitchen table once again to discuss the case while John was focused on reading through the medical charts he had in front of him. Caleb had just reported on what they saw in the morgue to Sam and Dean.

"Do you have anything to add?" asked Caleb.

"In U.S. law, deaths are placed in one of five categories: natural, accident, homicide, suicide, and undetermined," Sam answered.

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's his way of saying something without really saying something."

"Okay, then. I need a drink," said Caleb, getting up. "Sam, you drink beer yet?"

Dean responded with an emphatic, "no."

At the refrigerator, Caleb pulled open the door and asked, "you let him hunt but not drink a beer?" then grabbed three bottles and turned back around.

"Guys, I'm right here," Sam stated.

"I guess it's because he hunts, we follow the rules in everything else.

Sam was annoyed. "Dean, you're drinking and you're two years under the legal limit."

"Well then, it's 'coz you're the baby of the family." Dean reached out to ruffle his brother's hair but before he could, Sam knocked his hand away. Dean faced Caleb and added, "I can't help it...I've always watched out for this kid...Dad might allow it but not me."

Just then, John slammed the last folder shut. "No chemical or hormonal abnormalities...I wish I could've seen the other two bodies just to be sure there were no clues."

Sam grabbed all the charts from his dad and commented, "most autopsies are performed as soon as possible. The quality of the body's tissues deteriorates over time due to bacterial contamination and other decay processes affect the body."

Caleb laughed. "...and on that note, I say we make some dinner. Do you like spaghetti or macaroni?"

John frowned. "I take it you don't cook much."

"How'd you know?"

"For now spaghetti will be fine. Tomorrow sometime we'll go shopping for food."

Caleb shook his head. "Living here in the summer, you'll find we do those kind of things at night...the other option is getting up at the ass crack of dawn. I know a good twenty-four hour store I'll take you to."

Caleb then got up and started to collect what he needed to heat up water and tomato sauce.

John stood up and said, "Caleb, you and I can watch the news. Sam and Dean have got this." He then strode into the living room and sat down on the couch.

"Well, fine," Caleb responded and looked at John's sons, set the pans onto the counter. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Hey, Caleb," Sam said. "I noticed earlier a can labelled 'experimental weapons cleaner'. How well does it work?"

"It's QSOL 300...it works like a dream. But you should be careful...to use it you need elbow length chemical impervious gloves, goggles, smock. Exposure to vapor may cause eye irritation, watering, stinging and breathing in the vapor may cause nausea and prolonged skin contact leads to irritation. Remove any clothing if they get sprayed on, wash skin thoroughly with soap and water."

Dean set the pan filled with water on the stove and turned the burner on. He then turned and asked, "hey Caleb, I have a question...you don't happen to have a kid or a practical joking neighbor do you?"

"No to both...why?"

"Never mind."