Pirate Graveyard

It was a drizzly, foggy day. I couldn't see five feet in front of me. My foot hit something hard, yet slippery. I reached out my hand. My naked palm met cold steel. I froze in horror as the fog began to clear. I was inches away from a wrought iron fence that surrounded a Pirate graveyard. My legs felt as if they were full of sand. I couldn't back up. I stood riveted as the ghastly scene before me began to unveil. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I heard the slow creaking of a rusted hinge. Just then a goblin popped out and shouted "Johnny, you forgot your hamburger!"

Sorry, that last line was from a scary story I heard when I was a young child growing up near a graveyard. One of many. Yes, I grew up one house away from a graveyard. I cut through that graveyard many times coming home, sometimes at night. Nothing scary ever happened to me.

Life is scary enough today with taxes, mortgage payments, psychotic managers, temperamental teenagers, pushy car salesmen, angry teachers and moody parents. Get this. I got up at 5:30 a.m. when my daughter did and I hear this noise. I said "Is that (nieces' name)'s car horn?" Yes, it was. I put my jacket on and went outside. The horn was blaring away. As I trotted down the sidewalk towards the driveway, I was wondering 'How in the heck do I disengage the horn?' I opened the driver side door. There was a stick jammed between her front seat and the horn. I removed the stick and the horn stopped.

What the hell? By that time, my niece was outside, too. She has no idea who would have done this. We chalked it up to a Halloween prank - though a bit early. I cleaned out the garage and her car is now parked inside. In the newspaper there was another incident of a horn blowing, but that was in a town 12 miles away. No mention of a stick jamming the horn. It could have been a coincidence. October is cooler and horns do stick. Very weird. (Twilight zone music)

Okay, are we in the mood, yet? I STILL haven't found my Halloween decorations. Cleaning out the garage did not uncover them. Grrr! Okay, back to the root cellar. Certainly won't find any canned vegetables or fruit in there. Some people call it a root cellar, some a fruit cellar. How about a wine cellar? I like that one. I'll put a bottle of wine in there and call it a wine cellar. No, wait. I have two teenagers. How long do you think that bottle of wine will last?