My haunted house is an asshole

Well, if any of you know me at all then you know I work nights. It's currently 12:30ish and I've been home for about fifteen minutes. It's very windy and cold tonight and so I'm sort of huddled up in my kitchen as I write this...lets call it a Eulogy. Epitaph is more likely but fuck it, I'm an optimist. Anyways, I get home, I toss on my hoodie and pour my self a stiff post-shift night cap and step out into my back yard to smoke away the pain. The way I gain access to my back yard is a sliding glass door which comprises about 2..3rds of my kitchen's rear wall. So I'm on the porch, smoking and thinking about how it's taking scientists fucking forever to invent light sabers for real (god, I'm living for that day) and all of the sudden, as if god tripped and flipped a switch, the previously chilly but somber night EXPLODES into a howling windstorm. Trees thrash, leaves rustle, nipples harden into little pink diamonds and I'm just standing there taking it all in.
let me preface this with the fact that even though I probably don't know you very well and I certainly know your friends and family even less, I can honestly say with absolutely no doubt in my mind that I'm the most neurotic son of a bitch you have or will ever meet for the rest of your life. Even if you are an archeologist studying 2007 from the distant, beaver controlled, future and are reading this important artifact on holo-plank and snaking on a cod in the heart of the national Dam of History, I still know that my claim is true. I could give examples of this but it would be pointless. I win, hands down, fuck you (but your still pretty cute, beaver-scientist).
This is important only because it explains why, when I venture out into my yard, I always leave the glass door open at least an inch, because I know that the one time I close it, I'll be locked out. And then the heart attack or head injury or vicious bloodthirsty rabid nuclear possums come and, well, you know the rest.
But back to the scene...Me, drinking(drunk) and smoking, nipples, wind picks up, taking it in...And then things go...HORRIBLE.
I suddenly notice this AWFUL screeching noise, like the axels of trains from a quarter mile off, like a garbage truck full of linoleum being driven under an enormous damp sneaker, I just, I can't do it justice, but it was fucking loud and it made me pee a little. So, I go inside to investigate. As soon as I close the glass door it stops. This tells me what I heard was the wind whistling through my house. Ok, that's science, that's my world! I can handle that...but...where is it coming from? I take four steps into the hall and...


Wait for it....

My front door is open. Wide open. And swinging. And it's midnight. And a loud sound scared me. And my nipples, and the wind, and I'm tired and FUCK MY DOOR IS OPEN ANDITHINKILOCKEDITBUTIDONTREMEMBERFUCK.

So I'm in my kitchen. And I'm cold. And it's dark in here. and if my head was on fire and the last bucket of water on the planet was down the hall in my night filled bathroom surrounded by naked drunk chicks and Han solo asking me to fix his spyware problem on the Millennium Falcon...I'd sit here and burn down like a forgotten cigarette. The police who find me will have to snub me out on my tile floor.

I guess, in closing, I just want to say that if I have disappeared by the time you read this, please know that I don't blame you for not rushing to my house to help me make sure it's not full of murderers or foreigners or those possums I mentioned earlier, I just think you are kind of a jerk.