Merry Exorcistmas!
Okay, I think I’ve got it. I’ve got a scary story for you. Well, scary depending on how you see it. Like I think if you look at it the right way, it’s scary. So look at it like, “AH SO SCARY!” I mean it’s not like you’re going to need an exorcist or anything. Though, those are fun. Mother Mary and I had a poltergeist one Christmas and needed a special priest. We called it “exorcistmas” because what else are you going to do when the soul of an old tugboat captain is trapped between this world and the one betwixt this one and he can only communicate by rattling your cabinet doors and flinging your underpants into the toilet. Merry Exorcistmas!
Still it’s kind of scary.
Did you know that I’m afraid of the sound of the telephone ringing? Oh my Gob, that sound. It’s what I imagine the devil’s farts sound like; chilling, sudden, deadly. The phone doesn’t ring in my scary story, but I figured it was worth mentioning since there is a phone in my story.
THE PHONE THAT NEVER RANG
Sorry. That’s not the name of my scary story, but OMINOUS!
I didn’t want to leave my apartment that day. Sure, there was work to do on my invisible phone booth, and, obviously, most of my worries live in my head and not outside the house, so I should be out. But I was stalling. That’s when I saw the delightful part of my story. Ducks! No, not just ducks. BABY DUCKS! Little waddlers! You probably know I really like cute things. Baby animals, pieces of lint, Janine Werner in the third grade. And I’m not ashamed to tell you that I squealed and jumped up and down at the sight of them. The baby ducks were headed for my porch! It was the most innocent thing that could have happened out of all of the innocent things that very well could have happened on that day. In April. In the scary story.
Jordo just laughed at me. I was living with Jordo at the time, but that hasn’t been established in our tale until just now. Surprise!
So yeah, Jordo laughed that I was making such a bid deal out of the troop of baby duck faces headed towards my face. But I didn’t pay her any bother. I didn’t pay her any rent either, but that’s a scarier story for a day that’s not this day. There they were, doop boop wooping straight to my door. Like, the sun was out, but my stupid smile must have been brighter than its rays. If they had a device to measure the sun’s power compared to that of a big dumb grin, it would have broken. “Too much glee,” it might say if it could talk. If it existed.
Come to think of it, I might have been the one throwing my underpants into the toilet bowl.
Now I know what you’re thinking…because I’m a physicist. “This story’s not scary in the slightest or whitest, Billy Wylde.” And that may be true.
But do you know what happened next?
I said, “do you know what happened next?”
(no one answers)
If you do, tell me, and I’ll shut up.
No?
Nothing?
(nothing)
Jordo stuck her big dumb phone in my face and said, “Look at this rare ottoman from a different time period. It would hold cheese” It was some stupid thing that some stupid body posted on the stupid world-wide-heckall and she just had to show me. What is it with people who are so eager to show you everything? Like, I know everything is out there. It’s all going to come to me eventually, or it isn’t. I don’t need you to go find antique furniture owned by Sir-Moth-For-Face and interrupt my very special duck moment, Jordo!
That’s the scary part…
People don’t live like they’re standing in the spot they’re standing. They live like there’s another spot that’s so much better than the spot they’re in. And if they ever try and venture out of the spot they’re in, well, they usually trip on the boa constrictor that nuzzled up to them when they weren’t paying attention.
And then the snake constricts them and they die and dying and snakes are scary. So is not being present. And interrupting my duck time.
THE SNAKE THAT CHOKED THE LIFE OUT OF YOU BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO BUSY NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO YOUR SURROUNDINGS!
Has a nice ring to it.
(the telephone rings)
(Billy passes out)
Still it’s kind of scary.
Did you know that I’m afraid of the sound of the telephone ringing? Oh my Gob, that sound. It’s what I imagine the devil’s farts sound like; chilling, sudden, deadly. The phone doesn’t ring in my scary story, but I figured it was worth mentioning since there is a phone in my story.
THE PHONE THAT NEVER RANG
Sorry. That’s not the name of my scary story, but OMINOUS!
I didn’t want to leave my apartment that day. Sure, there was work to do on my invisible phone booth, and, obviously, most of my worries live in my head and not outside the house, so I should be out. But I was stalling. That’s when I saw the delightful part of my story. Ducks! No, not just ducks. BABY DUCKS! Little waddlers! You probably know I really like cute things. Baby animals, pieces of lint, Janine Werner in the third grade. And I’m not ashamed to tell you that I squealed and jumped up and down at the sight of them. The baby ducks were headed for my porch! It was the most innocent thing that could have happened out of all of the innocent things that very well could have happened on that day. In April. In the scary story.
Jordo just laughed at me. I was living with Jordo at the time, but that hasn’t been established in our tale until just now. Surprise!
So yeah, Jordo laughed that I was making such a bid deal out of the troop of baby duck faces headed towards my face. But I didn’t pay her any bother. I didn’t pay her any rent either, but that’s a scarier story for a day that’s not this day. There they were, doop boop wooping straight to my door. Like, the sun was out, but my stupid smile must have been brighter than its rays. If they had a device to measure the sun’s power compared to that of a big dumb grin, it would have broken. “Too much glee,” it might say if it could talk. If it existed.
Come to think of it, I might have been the one throwing my underpants into the toilet bowl.
Now I know what you’re thinking…because I’m a physicist. “This story’s not scary in the slightest or whitest, Billy Wylde.” And that may be true.
But do you know what happened next?
I said, “do you know what happened next?”
(no one answers)
If you do, tell me, and I’ll shut up.
No?
Nothing?
(nothing)
Jordo stuck her big dumb phone in my face and said, “Look at this rare ottoman from a different time period. It would hold cheese” It was some stupid thing that some stupid body posted on the stupid world-wide-heckall and she just had to show me. What is it with people who are so eager to show you everything? Like, I know everything is out there. It’s all going to come to me eventually, or it isn’t. I don’t need you to go find antique furniture owned by Sir-Moth-For-Face and interrupt my very special duck moment, Jordo!
That’s the scary part…
People don’t live like they’re standing in the spot they’re standing. They live like there’s another spot that’s so much better than the spot they’re in. And if they ever try and venture out of the spot they’re in, well, they usually trip on the boa constrictor that nuzzled up to them when they weren’t paying attention.
And then the snake constricts them and they die and dying and snakes are scary. So is not being present. And interrupting my duck time.
THE SNAKE THAT CHOKED THE LIFE OUT OF YOU BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO BUSY NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO YOUR SURROUNDINGS!
Has a nice ring to it.
(the telephone rings)
(Billy passes out)