Haunt Theory: What's He Building In There?

What's he building in there?

What the hell is he building in there?

He has subscriptions to those magazines

He never waves when he goes by

He's hiding something from the rest of us

He's all to himself

I think I know why

He took down the tire swing from the pepper tree

He has no children of his own, you see

He has no dog

And he has no friends

And his lawn is dying

And what about all those packages he sends?

What's he building in there?

With that hook light on the stairs

What's he building in there?

I'll tell you one thing

He's not building a playhouse for the children

What's he building in there?

Now what's that sound from under the door?

He's pounding nails into a hardwood floor

And I swear to god I heard someone moaning low

And I keep seeing the blue light of a T.V. show

He has a router and a table saw

And you won't believe what Mr. Sticha saw

There's poison underneath the sink of course

But there's also enough formaldehyde to choke a horse

What's he building in there?

What the hell is he building in there?

I heard he has an ex-wife

In some place called Mayors Income, Tennessee

And he used to have a consulting business in Indonesia

But what is he building in there?

What the hell is building in there?

He has no friends

But he gets a lot of mail

I'll bet he spent a little time in jail

I heard he was up on the roof last night

Signaling with a flashlight

And what's that tune he's always whistling

What's he building in there?

What's he building in there?

We have a right to know...

Photo taken while visiting some family outside Louisville.
Original song by Tom Waits

Being a home haunter inevitably causes some neighbors to raise their eyebrows.

There are those that are genuinely curious; those who admire the effort and the creativity.

And then there are those that are just nosy.  The busybodies. The ones that walk (or drive) a little slower past your house, their eyes trained on the windows. The ones that constantly question you, but you get the sense they aren't really trying to understand. 

All I can hope for when those neighbors gossip is that their kids are in the next room, eavesdropping.  Because if I remember anything from public school, it's that the really juicy rumors and urban legends start around the lunch table, spun by inflated imaginations and half-heard conversations. 

"I hear he digs up graves!" 

"Jimmy's Mom said his house is haunted! I bet the ghosts are people he murdered!" 

"I dare you to wave to him!"

So cheers to being that house! Every neighborhood needs one.