Chuck's House

THUD!
Chuck heard the newspaper slam against the front of the house.
“He isn’t even trying to hit the front door anymore,” Chuck muttered to his wife.
“I don’t see what difference it makes whether the paper lands at the door, or a few feet from the door, Charles, you can read it just the same.”
Chuck grumbled to himself, hoisted his 71-year-old body out of his chair, and lumbered over to the door.
“Charles O’Henry,” he stated clearly.
“Voice pattern confirmed. Front door opened,” the house stated equally clearly.
Chuck was struck briefly by how businesslike these verbal transactions were, as he pushed the door open.
His wife Helen had wanted this “upgraded” house computer. He had personally grown accustomed to the voice of their old house, a mature woman with a warm nature, and had been disappointed at the choices in voices for the new house.
At first, they had tried the new cheerful young boy who reminded Chuck a lot of the classic Leave It To Beaver show.
After a few months of overly cheerful pre-puberty however, they both decided the cold, default female voice was the best of the new options.
He walked onto the porch, closing the door behind him.
The newspaper had bounced off the front siding and landed atop the big plastic bushes his wife had wanted “to make the house stand out a little, dear.”
Chuck could see the grayish mark on the siding where the newspaper hit.
“It left a damn mark Helen!” Chuck hollered inside.
“What?”
Chuck muttered to himself and grabbed the paper brusquely.
He smudged at the mark violently with his thumb, but it did nothing, so he walked the two 71-year-old steps back to the door.
“Charles O’Henry,” he stated clearly.
“Voice pattern not recognized. Entry denied,” the house stated equally clearly.
Chuck stopped pushing on the door and cleared his throat.
“Charles O’Henry,” Chuck said, making sure to enunciate every letter.
“Voice pattern not recognized. Entry denied,” the house stated again.
“Now dammit, you just said you recognized me two minutes ago!”
“To permit access, please state your name clearly.”
“Charles O’Henry!”
“Voice pattern not recognized. Entry Denied. House under lockdown. Warning: further attempts may result in police action and housing defense activation. Have a nice day.”
“Let me into my damn house! Helen!” Chuck yelled.
“What’s wrong now Charles?”
“This damn house of yours locked me out!”
“What?”
“For God’s sakes Helen, come over to the door so you can hear me!”
Chuck very faintly heard Helen pull herself out of her chair and shuffle over to the other side of the door.
“Charles, why are you outside yelling?
“Helen, the front door locked me out. I’m locked out of my own house in my damn pajamas,” Charles spat.
“Why don’t you just say your name, dear?”
Chuck closed his eyes and sighed audibly.
“Helen, why don’t YOU say YOUR name.”
“Don’t be angry with me Charles, you’re the one who wanted this new house computer. I was happy with the old one.”
Chuck took a deep breath and turned away from the door, sighing to himself.
All around the neighbourhood now, the younger neighbours were all waking up and starting their day.
Chuck decided to sit on his uncomfortable foamwood porch swing and read the paper.
He could hear his wife chattering away through the door at him, about now she was probably blaming him again for the faulty alarm bed settings, even though he’d explained that it was a manufacturing defect at least a dozen times. He’d even clipped out the article with the company’s public apology and complete lack of desire (or “inability” as they put it) to make up for their faulty alarm beds.
Chuck noticed that one of his neighbours was lying on his own porch swing, a real comfortable wooden one, a few houses away across the street.
It looked as if he was sleeping in his suit for some reason.
Chuck was fortunate enough to see his flurry of waking with a start, looking at his watch, jumping into his car, and driving off.
Helen was yelling now.
“-do you mean not recognized?!” he heard her shout.
Chuck folded his paper neatly, stood up, and walked back over to the door.
“Helen, is it broken for you too?”
“Charles, it said it didn’t recognize me!” Helen grumped from inside.
“Voice pattern not recognized. House under lockdown. Authorities have been alerted. Have a nice day.”
Chuck was angry now.
“What on Earth do you mean? You’ve called the cops?!”
“Charles, why won’t it open?”
“Helen, if I knew that, I wouldn’t be standing on the porch in my skivvies!”
“Well, it certainly is an inconvenience Charles.”
“I’m sure the police will be able to help. Just go back to your puzzle and I’ll talk to them when they get here.”
Chuck went back to his swing and opened his newspaper. He heard Helen complaining quietly to herself inside.
A few minutes later, two squad cars showed up on the street.
The officers inside got out and both pointed their shotguns at him.
“We received reports of an unauthorized entry into this residence. Put your hands in the air and prepare for arrest.”
“It’s my own damn house! No one’s unauthorized here.”
“He’s resisting arrest! Activate!”
Chuck started to reply, when all of an instant, he was hit by an electric shell and fell to the ground, convulsing with pain and more volts than his body knew what to do with.
The two officers swarmed onto his porch, one of them handcuffing him, while the other kept his shotgun aimed at Chuck’s head.
Chuck was still convulsing as they moved away from him and towards the door.
Chuck’s ears barely discerned Helen at the door.
“Has my husband told you everything officers?”
Before they could answer, the door chimed in.
“Good morning officers. This is house 148-F. There have recently been numerous unauthorized attempts from two individuals. One individual outside the house and one individual inside the house.”
“Good God Johnson! The burglar has already gotten inside!” one of the officers yelled, even though they were standing right next to each other.
“Load that geezer into your squadcar Evans, I’ll deal with this perp myself!” the other officer yelled, even though they were still standing right next to each other.
Chuck’s ears began to normalize again and he heard Helen pleading.
“I’m not a burglar! Charles, tell them I’m your wife!”
Chuck heard the computer respond.
“Voice pattern not recognized. Entry Denied. House defense system activated. Have a nice day.”
“Good God Johnson! The burglar has turned the house against us!”
“Let’s get outta here Evans!
Chuck was roughly picked up, slung over one of the officer’s shoulders and rushed to a squadcar, where he was thrown in the back like a sack of laundry.
Chuck heard the house’s defenses firing plasma beams at the squadcar, where they were deflected by the car’s plating.
His tongue and lips were still too numb to speak when he heard the officer spit into his radio.
“This is officer Johnson, we need an immediate firebombing of house 148-F. repeat, immediate firebombing of house 148-F. over.”
Chuck’s tongue was still swollen, and his mouth wouldn’t open.
The radio blasted “Roger that. Immediate firebombing of house 148-F in progress. Over.”
“Roger. Over and out.”
They drove away and Chuck began to cry, hearing the sounds of explosions behind him.