Sunday, April 8, 2007 | 6 responses | Filed Under: Only Judith
It's two thirty in the morning here in Hickville.
Of course, those of you who know me well are completely familiar with my warped sense of time and the insane bouts of insomnia that have plagued my life since I was a pig-tailed princess sneaking past my mom's room in the middle of the night to spend a lovely two hours lending my voice-over talents to the various characters on Superman. (Yes, that was an incredibly long sentence, but you handled it wonderfully. Congratulations.) Tonight, however, the insomnia isn't the only thing keeping me all bushy-tailed,bright-eyed, and mildly paranoid.
You see, earlier this evening, I came to the rather startling conclusion that I'm in the wrong kind of book.
This is how I see it:
The Bard gave Caesar a soothsayer and the Ides of March and Macbeth the weird sisters. In fact, it seems that every really good story has some sort of prophet… Some subtle warning all wrapped up in crazy and topped off with a big fat bow of unbelievable.
My prophet?
A creepy little girl with a basket full of cracked eggs.
Welcome to my cheap-fiction horror novel.
As the Little Shakespeares are looking forward to chocolate bunnies,
fake grass, and food color stains on the morrow; I left them all in the
capable hands of that pretty piece of meat that I married and headed
off to a late-night push and shove at the local Walmart. As this is
Hickville and civilization is a forty-minute drive and headache from
here, I found myself the lone customer at the ridiculously over-priced
gas station on the corner. The lady behind the counter was neither
familiar nor friendly (nothing new considering I fit in here about as
well as I would at the Republican National Convention), but I was in
and out quickly.
It was on the walk back to the car that I noticed her standing by one
of those smelly trash cans by the pump. She was peeling eggs. I'd guess
she was, I don't know, seven or eight… I smiled at her. She smiled
back and said,
Do you believe in evil spirits?
Ummm… Pardon?
We were at the party at my cousin's house and the spirits have been
chasing us around town. Did you know that tomorrow's Easter?
Yeah, ummm, Happy Easter, sweetheart.
I quickly hopped into my van and drove away.
Now, I'm home and sitting here at two in the morning typing this. The
baskets are done and awaiting the coming gleeful shouts. The last of
the eggs are dancing in the pot, and I'm…
Well, I'm just waiting for the zombies to show up.
April 8, 2007
Ok, now that is just freaking creepy.
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April 8, 2007
Tell me about it. Is "exorcist" a category in the yellow pages by chance?
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April 8, 2007
Ah, you don't want a priest in your house, you have a couple young boys!!
Wow, how strange…..hell, you probably handled it better than I would've, what with my irrational fear of creepy children who speak cryptically.
LOL
Love ya!!
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April 9, 2007
Are there, perhaps, any corn fields nearby?
Wow.
First off - I really don't do well with creepy kids. Secondly - I really and truly do not do well with late night, out in the sticks, basically empty gas stations. (that in itself is a long story, and one that still makes me shudder. Thanks oh so much for bringing up that particular memory!)
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April 9, 2007
ROFL Kirstie…that was a good one.
Jude…don't know about exorcist but I do know that there are plenty of paranormal investigators out there…but I can't say if they are legit or not…they may just want to go through your underwear drawer…
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April 11, 2007
Roxy- Yes, indeed there are corn fields… As a matter of fact, last year B*'s class was going to take a field trip to one of those nifty little corn mazes and everyone about pissed in their pants when I freaked out and wouldn't let him go.
Sandy- oooh. You think I can get ghosthunters to come check out the gas station???
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