Those Kinds of Kids Scare the Hell Out of Me

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
Categories: Only Judith

1.©2007 by Courtney Hebert as Judith Shakespeare.
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3.Blog title courtesy of Oscar Wilde, pseudonym Virginia Woolf, design JudithShakes.