Jenny screamed, as she turned and saw the floating apparition of a heavy-set man with thick glasses, smiling behind her.

The Crypt-Lurker said, “Now tell her what she’s won, Johnny!”

“A plague on both your houses!” bellowed Johnny, holding up two little monitors. One showed a darkening cloud of locusts hovering over Jenny’s summer home, while the other showed a torrent of croaking toads invading her apartment.

The audience laughed and applauded, as Jenny gaped in awe. “Are you trying to give me a heart-attack?” she finally asked the Crypt-Lurker.

“Well, what do you expect, Jenny?” chuckled the skeletal figure, “This IS “The Curse is Right” game-show!”

“I wonder what Sunshine and MattBaby would do at a time like this,” thought Jenny. She had promised her struggling family that she would apply her quick wit and amazingly high IQ to any game show that would have her own as a contestant, but she was stymied as to what benefit she could gain from being on this macabre program.

An hour later, Jenny had won a “Scream Vacation” in Amityville, and also a year’s supply of Manic Manson’s Morose Mustard.

“Aaaaaahh, what’s up, Doc?” said Jenny, a little appalled to see Charles Manson’s face on every label of what might otherwise be sublime dijon. “Weren’t you giving out something healthier on previous shows?”

The Crypt-Lurker scowled, first at her and then at a flock of executives who were standing nearby. “Jolly Jumpin’ Jesus Juice just isn’t the marketing sensation we’d hoped for,” he hissed. “Gentlemen, we need to see what else marketing can do for us. I’m not sure Manson Mustard is going to do well either.”

“Be vewy, vewy careful,” whispered a werewolf named Lonnie, “I think the sponsors are weally upset right now.”

Jenny didn’t wait to see how the confrontation ended, she just grabbed her prize certificates and left the dark and sinister studios. As the credits flashed across the TV monitors, a musician at the accompanying soundstage played a dreadful dirge. Jenny was taken by the fact that the deranged bagpiper resembled the Pillsbury Doughboy…only covered in cobwebs and prone to baleful fits of screaming when he wasn’t playing the instrument.

=============

“Please don’t tell me that we are staying in a haunted house!” moaned Aunt Gertie, as the minivan rumbled up the rocky and mossy road. Vultures were already circling the vehicle, as the crumbling Victorian mansion loomed into view.

“It’s my grand prize,” said Jenny apologetically, “if we manage to survive the night, we win a washer and dryer set, it says so in the contract.”

Uncle Buzz frowned. “It also says you must agree to birth the Demon Spawn of Beezelbub for every consecutive Halloween night, in order to receive the brand-new Samsonite luggage with new extendable caddy and anti-lock wheels!”

Aunt Gertie smiled. “Well, we always thought you’d be a great mother, Jenny.”

Jenny sighed. As the minivan pulled up into the driveway, the windows flared a bright sickly fuschia color, and what sounded like chuckles from some unearthly giant began to emanate from its front door. Still, it beat going back home to an apartment full of toads or locusts. The free month’s supply of “Pestilence B-Gone” would see that. At least THAT was something the game show producers had provided that was useful………

END

I wonder what Sunshine and MattBaby would do at a time like this? I’ve got to be vewy, vewy careful. They don’t joke around. So before I answer, I’ll just post a note, “I’ll be back, please don’t finish without me!”

As it closes in on 1:00am Touche drifts off to sleep. It was a long day.

I opened my eyes, I could hear music playing faintly in the background. Dazed and confused I walk toward the sound. Where did all that fog come from? I could see the outline of a structure in the distance. Suddenly out of no where, Sunshine brushes past me and says, “Please don’t tell me that we are staying in a haunted house!” Still somewhat confused, I ask, “Do you hear that? That music, what is it?” Just then, Sunshine says, “Hush, now don’t panic. But I think there is a ghost standing behind you.” I turn slowly, the deranged bagpiper greatly resembled The Pillsbury Doughboy, “AHHHHHHHHH…..What’s up , Doc?” he says.

I’m thinking…What the hell???

Well I didn’t stop to think about it, I took off running, with Sunshine in tow, screaming “MattBaby!”

Touche! Touche! Huh? (It was my boyfriend, tapping me gently) “You fell asleep at the computer baby, come to bed.”

Good night y’all

“Oh, it was only a nightmare,” he said to himself, rubbing his eyes. Even so, he was still a bit frightened. He looked out the window, surveying the land.

“A storm’s rolling in.” he commented to himself. He got up and started to get dressed. He realized he was running late for work and called his assistant, Martha, to let her know of his delay.

On his way to work, raindrops started to drop on his windshield. In just a few minutes, those raindrops transformed into a treacherous storm. The doctor could barely see the road in front of him. He decided it would be more safe to pull over and wait the storm out. He pulled into the driveway of an old manor. He tried to call Martha again, but he couldn’t get any reception on his cell phone. The storm worsened. Trees were being whipped in the wind, and the rain was falling so hard that Dr. Jones couldn’t even see out of the windows of his car. He wondered if anyone was at home.

“I’ll just knock on the door.” he decided. When he got up to the door, he realized this wasn’t just any old house. He was at the Casson Manor. How had he gotten here? He never traveled this way to work. The Casson Manor was notorious in town. Rumors spread like wildfire about the old house. Many thought that Old Man Casson had went mad and brutally murdered his wife and family there hundreds of years ago, before killing himself. It was still considered to be haunted. Nobody had lived there in years. Ivy covered the ancient house. Dr. Jones reached for the rusty door knocker, but then felt foolish.

“Why bother knocking? Nobody lives here.” he said to himself. He turned the knob, and with little effort, the door creaked open. Dr. Jones stepped inside and closed the door, escaping the storm. Everything was dark inside, but Dr. Jones was resourceful. He used his cell phone as a makeshift flashlight. He looked around. The place was filthy, covered in dust and soot. He started to walk around the room, when a sudden noise made him jump.

“Oh…just a mouse.” he said, heart still racing. He was unsure of what to do next, as the storm was still raging on, possibly even getting worse. He was about to sit down on the bare floor when he heard music coming from the other side of the house.

“No, it couldn’t be…” he thought to himself. “This place has been abandoned for years. My mind is just playing tricks on me.” He tried to reassure himself, but it was to no avail. His curiosity got the best of him, and he set off to find the source of the music. He passed through corridor after corridor, peering in every room, closet, and crawlspace. The music got louder and louder with every step he took. Dr. Jones still thought that the music could not exist, and even considered the possibility that the house was making him go mad. However, he continued on his quest. He eventually came to two large oak doors. The music had to be coming from behind them. Dr. Jones grabbed hold of both the handles and heaved, throwing both of the doors open at the same time. The doctor couldn’t believe what he saw.

“AHHHHHHHHH….What’s up, Doc?” said the source of the music, a slightly deranged bagpipe player by the name of Horace. The deranged bagpipe player greatly resembled The Pillsbury Doughboy. He was known in town as a jokester. He found this situation to be highly amusing. The doctor, of course, did not.

“Hello, Horace.” he said curtly. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was out for a walk when the storm came by, just thought I’d drop in for a bit and let it pass. Didn’t want the ole ‘pipes to get wet.”

“I see.”

The two men made idle conversation for awhile before something startled the doctor.

“Horace, be quiet.”

“What is it?”

“Shhh!” The doctor scolded. Both of the men were very still. Through the sound of the violent wind and rain, they heard the distinct sound of someone screaming somewhere in the house.

“Where is it coming from?” asked Horace.

“I’m not sure…but we should probably find out.” replied the doctor. Had someone else taken refuge in the house, only to find more danger? The doctor led Horace out of the room and into the hallway.

“Should we split up?” asked Horace.

“N-No.” said the doctor. Even though he did not particularly care for Horace, he would much rather be in his company than be alone in that house. They walked through several corridors, but they could not locate the source of the scream. They called out for whoever might be in the house, but received no answer. The men were growing weary. Their minds were playing tricks on them. They would see things and look back, only to find that what they thought they saw had vanished. One of them would hear a noise, but the other would insist that the noise never occured. Both of them seriously considered that they might be insane. Suddenly, they reached a staircase. They stared at it. Was it safe? The doctor, a little apprehensive, decided to let Horace try the staircase first.

Each stair creaked, as though threatening to split before their eyes. It appeared to be holding up well enough though.

“Be vewy, vewy careful.” warned Horace, as Dr. Jones stepped on the first stair.

“What? Why are you talking like that?” Dr. Jones asked, but Horace just replied with giggles. “Horace? Are you feeling okay.”

“Never been better, Doc!” insisted Horace, and continued up the staircase. The doctor reluctantly followed. When the got to the top of the staircase, they continued searching, room after room. The house seemed to get more and more creepy the longer they were in it. The slightest noise would make both of them jump, and the storm was still raging outside. They finally came to a small door, leading to the attic. Both of the men were fearful.

“Y-You open it.” said Horace.

“Nuh-uh. No way.” said the doctor. “You do it.”

“Oh but I don’t wanna…” said Horace.

“Hmm…I wonder what Sunshine and MattBaby would do at a time like this?” said the doctor.

“What? Sunshine and MattBaby? Who are they?” asked Horace.

“Oh..erm..um..nevermind Horace.” replied the doctor. He wrung his hands nervously. “I’ll just uh…open the door then.” As he reached for the handle, Horace gasped.

“What is it Horace?” asked the doctor.

“Now don’t panic. But I think there is a ghost standing behind you.” said Horace, very matter-of-factly. Dr. Jones nearly jumped out of his pants, screaming like a little girl. When he turned around and saw nothing there, he was furious.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?! Please don’t tell me that, we are staying in a haunted house.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I thought I saw a ghost. Maybe I did.”

Horace was getting on the doctor’s last nerve. He ripped open the door and as they stared up the lonesome staircase they saw—-

nothing. Just pitch black darkness.

That is, until Old Man Casson came swooping down on them, brandishing an axe.

“WHO’S IN MY HOUSE?!” bellowed Old Man Casson. Horace and Dr. Jones both screamed and high-tailed it in the opposite direction.

“I knew I saw a ghost!” said Horace.

“GET OUT YOU FILTHY MUTTS! PAIN TO ALL WHO ENTER THE CASSON MANOR! A PLAGUE ON BOTH YOUR HOUSES!” Old Man Casson swung his axe wildly, each time narrowly missing Dr. Jones or Horace. When the two men reached the front door, they forgot about the storm and continued running into the overgrown woods surrounding the manor. Neither one of them was ever seen again, but some say that if you look and listen really carefully, you can still see the glow of Dr. Jones’ cell phone, and hear the distant music of Horace’s bagpipes on the grounds of the Casson Manor.