copyright © 2005

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
It was the night before Halloween, and the entire city was on edge. Storm clouds hovered ominously overhead, lightning sparked the sky. And a serial killer was on the loose!

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Nice.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Very dramatic.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I had been working late again, as usual. Or at least, that’s what I was going to say when I got home. But really the turgid affair had been going on for months now, and no one seemed to suspect.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
I think you mean torrid.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I pulled into the driveway just after midnight that night, and parked the car outside, so I wouldn’t wake anyone with the sound of the garage door opener. Then I tiptoed around the side of the house to let myself in through the kitchen door. I had just put the key in the lock when I was startled by a rattling sound, behind me and when I turned around, I saw something dart behind the garage. It was small and shadowy, and it looked like it had fangs.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Oh, c’mon! It was probably a cat.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Ssh! I want to hear this.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
It had fangs?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I said it looked like it had fangs. I didn’t say it had fangs.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
What’s the difference?

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Are you telling the story?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
There was an old, splintery, garden rake leaning next to the door, where the gardener had left it, so I picked it up with both hands and I crept over to the side of the garage and peered around the corner… But there was nothing there.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Look under the car.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Let me tell it.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Sorry.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
So I waited there for a moment. Then a minute. Then two. And then I heard a strange thump-thump coming from the backyard, like someone — or something - had tripped into one of the trashcans. My hands were clenched tightly on the handle of the old rake, and I took a breath and I rushed into the back yard to see what was there. I saw something moving around in the shadows against the garage. And I said, "Who’s there?" But there was no reply. Nothing. Silence. And then… this almost inaudible, unearthly hiss.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Like a snake hiss?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Like something breathing. Like some undead thing struggling for its last dying breath. (inhales raspily, like a hissing cat) "Who’s back there?" I said again, "I’ve got a gun." Which I didn’t, but I was ready to rake the hell out of whoever or whatever came at me. And then I took the handle of the rake and I slowly, very slowly nudged the nearest trashcan. Suddenly, over the top of the garbage, it came at me, hissing and shrieking like a demon out of hell! I don’t know if it was a raccoon or an alley cat, but I swear it came flying straight at my face!

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Probably a cat. Raccoon’s don’t make that sound.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Well, whatever it was.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
It went right for my throat like a vampire. My heart was practically jumping out of my chest. I took a wild swing at it with the rake, and then I just dropped it and ran back around to the side of the house. Flattening myself against the siding, gasping for breath.

I tried to calm myself. It’s just a raccoon. Or maybe a cat. And whatever it is, it can’t get inside the house. I just have to go in the house and I’m safe.

Then after a moment - As soon as I caught my breath, I thought, well, good, it was just a raccoon. I think. I can go inside now. I knew I had left the rake in the middle of the driveway, but I thought - Y’know what? I’ll get it in the morning, when it’s light. So I reach in my pocket to get the house keys, and they’re gone. My keys are gone.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Oh, no! You were locked outside with that thing?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I started frantically checking all my pockets.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Did you leave ‘em in the car?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
That’s what I thought, at first, but I didn’t have my car keys, either! And then I realized–

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
You left them in the door.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I must have just put the keys in the door, when I first heard the raccoon–

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
I’m telling you, it was a cat.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Raccoon’s a better story.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Better than a feral cat? Those things are nasty. Livin’ on garbage. Covered in disease.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Raccoon’s got a mask, like a bandit.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Why don’t we say it was a rabid raccoon? Then it can be scary for both of you.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
So I went to open the door, and I noticed it was already ajar. And I couldn’t remember–Did I unlock it before, and start to open the door when I was interrupted? Or did I just put the key in the lock. And what if someone got in? What if somebody’s lurking in the house... Waiting. Waiting to kill me. But I thought, you know, this is just my imagination going crazy. Cuz the whole town is kind of stressed because there’s that serial killer out there. But that doesn’t mean every little thing is a clue.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
And it’s probably your guilty conscience from having an affair, too.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
So I’m thinking, It’s gotta be nothing. What could it be?

My family’s in there, too. I’ve got to chance it.

So I went inside, but I very specifically made sure to lock the door behind me, and bolted it. Then I hung up my jacket on the hook by the door. And started to go upstairs to bed. But then I thought I heard something moving in the kitchen, as well.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Not again.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
So I reached down and felt around there by the door, and grabbed one of the kids’ softball bats, which for some reason they keep leaving in the umbrella stand which I tell them not to do, but honestly, thank God for it now, and I take it and walk into the kitchen to see what made the noise.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Do you have cats?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
It wasn’t the cats.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
It could have been cats.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I don’t think it was the cats.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Anyway…

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
So I go into the kitchen and it’s dark, I can barely see.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Why didn’t you turn on the lights?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I didn’t want to wake anyone, in case it was the cats, and then have to explain why I was just getting home after midnight. Plus, whoever was in there, I didn’t want them to know I already knew they were there. So I leave the lights off, but I creep into the dark kitchen, and I’m looking around, giving my eyes time to adjust, and it is so quiet I could hear a pin drop, if my heart wasn’t beating, th-thump th-thump, th-thump.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
That’s not a heart sound.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Are you a cardiologist?

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
No.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Then shut up.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
And I look around the kitchen, and again, there’s nothing. But now I’m standing in the middle of the kitchen, and I’m hungry.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
You’d have to be, after that. Your metabolism’s gotta be through the roof.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
And I figure I’ll make myself a bologna sandwich before I go to bed. So I go to the fridge, get the bologna, get the bread, mayo, old head of lettuce, and I make myself a sandwich.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
You’re out of tomatoes?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I don’t like tomatoes.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
You like spaghetti sauce, don’t you?

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
This isn’t about the tomatoes.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
And I reach behind me for the big butcher knife to cut the sandwich in two — cuz I always like to go over kill with the bologna sandwich. Let ‘em know who’s boss. You don’t want to work at cuttin’ a sandwich in two. So I always use the big-ass butcher knife. I mean, somebody spent a lot of money on getting us the whole set as a wedding present, I might as well use ‘em.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Sure.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I always keep it razor sharp, too. One chop. Eat this, sandwich! So I’m fumbling around in the dark for the knife rack.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
(cringing) Ohh, I know how this turns out.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
And it’s gone. I can’t find it. The little knife is there, and the two medium knives are there. And the bread knife. But the big butcher knife is missing from the slot. And it isn’t on the counter, and it isn’t in the sink. And I check the dishwasher. And a little voice is saying–What if the serial killer got into my house while I was chasing the raccoon, and snuck into the kitchen and stole the knife... Only it wasn’t a little voice in my head, it was his voice, and he was standing right behind me. And when I turned around, he stabbed me in the gut. Once! Twice! Three times!

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Oh! Oh!!

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I didn’t even have time to scream, I just slumped to my knees, black blood running all over the new linoleum. And I look up, and I see the glint of moonlight reflecting on the blade, as he reaches down with one hand and very gently lifts up my chin, and slashes my throat across from ear to ear.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Oh my God! Let me see.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Nice.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Wow. So you got a good look at him?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
No, because when I saw him, all he was wearing was this black bandana that was tied across his face like a bandit, so all you could see were his eyes. His evil, glowing red eyes! Bah ha ha ha ha!

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Wait, so he was naked except for a bandana.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
No, of course not.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
You said all he was wearing was a black bandana.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
That’s all he was wearing that I noticed. I’m sure he had on clothes.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Was that how he laughed? Bah ha ha ha ha!

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
No, actually, it was more like, heh hee hee hee hee heh heh

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
I like yours better.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Thanks.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Wow. That sucks.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
I know.
Y’know what I’m gonna miss the most about not being alive?

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
What’s that?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Bologna sandwiches at midnight.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Okay. Well, check it out. My turn. So I’m out with my girlfriend on Halloween night. And we’re both wearing capes like Mr. & Mrs. Vampire Dracula. So I took her to see this slasher film — cuz she likes that sort of thing — and I like how she grabs onto me when she gets scared. Only this time, we go to the movie, and I don’t know if it's because of all the news, but she gets so freaked out by it, that she wants to leave the movie before it’s even half over.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Well, that’s understandable. With a real serial killer waiting outside the theatre.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
(scoffs) He wasn’t waiting outside the theatre! (to 2^nd Ghost) ...Was he?

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
No. But it was still too early to go home, so I remembered this old, secluded, make-out spot up on the bluff overlooking the lake that we used to go to in high school, and I talk her into going up there. The view is gorgeous up there, and there was a huge full moon that night. And I thought I should put the top down on the convertible cuz that’ll be more romantic. And she said–Aren’t you worried about the serial killer. And I thought — same as you did — yeah, I know he’s out there, but you can’t get carried away with paranoia. Besides, having the girlfriend who’s a little afraid after dark is kinda the whole point of going out on Halloween. So, sure, I’m a little edgy, but I know she’s even more. So of course I’m all fearless and, like, "It’s okay, baby, I’ll protect you." I mean, I’ve got a crow bar under the front seat of the car. What can happen? So I get out of the car, and I’m trying to put the top down. Havin’ a little trouble.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Cuz it sticks?

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Yeah, sometimes. And I think — I’m gonna give her a real scare–and I suddenly let out a yelp and fall to the ground like something’s grabbed me from under the car. And it totally gets her, she lets out a scream like she just about had a heart attack. And she’s like "Chris? Chris??" So I play it up, I start sliding myself under the car, like they’re dragging me under, and I start yelling and screaming and banging on the underside of the car. And shaking the car a little. As much as I can. And I hear her inside the car, and she is fuh-lipping out - screaming and crying and really losing her shit. And I’m screamin’ and crying, but I’m cryin’ with laughter almost at how bad she’s overreacting at this, but part of me kinda doesn’t mind that she’s scared, because of how she ruined movie night. And then I hear the car door open, like she’s getting out, and I think, Uh oh, now she’s pissed. Or she’s gonna be pissed if I let her run off into the woods and have to chase after her and try to calm her down out there. So I stop banging on the car and I say, "Honey, wait, I’m okay, stay with the car." And I start to get out from under, and I feel a tug at my throat, and I realize my vampire cape is caught on something. And it’s a nice cape, and it’s a rental, and I’m gonna tear it if I don’t get it unhooked. But it’s so dark, I can’t see what I’m caught on. So I say, "Honey, you got to come down here and help me. Something’s got me."

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Ooh. Bad choice of words.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
In retrospect, maybe yes. But all I hear is nothing. She just doesn’t say anything.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Oh, she’s pissed now.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Well, you scared the hell out of her.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Which I admit. But I though she had to be over it by now, cuz I don’t hear her crying any more. And I say, "Honey, don’t be a bitch, grab the flashlight out of the glove compartment and get down here and give me a hand." And just like that — I’m still trying to unhook my cape — her hand plops down on my face. Not like trying to be helpful. Just sorta plops down on my face. And I’m like, "Honey, that’s not funny. Get the flashlight, I can’t see what I’m doing." And I especially can’t see with her hand in my face, and I reach up to push it away and I realize, it’s not attached to anything. Her hand has been sliced off clean at the wrist like with a butcher knife. (whips out a severed hand)

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Agh! Where’d you get that!

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
And I look up and there’s a man standing there looking down at me with a black bandana over his face. And a bloody butcher knife in one hand. And a crow bar in the other, laughing. And he leans down and whispers in my ear, "What if the serial killer got into the car while I was fucking around and cut off her hand." And I’m thinking, This is how I’m gonna die. Stabbed in the face with a butcher knife.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
And were you?

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Nope. Crowbar. Bam, bam, bam! (pause) Bam bam bam bam bam.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Oh my God, that’s scary.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
You’re tellin’ me.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
So wait a minute. If he killed you and your girlfriend, how come you’re the only one here.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
I don’t know! I think she might’ve lived.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Oh, that sucks. So you got killed–

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
So I got my skull splattered open while I’m trapped under a car, and she gets to go on with her life.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Well, she lost a hand.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
Yeah, that’s gotta suck.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Are you saying losing a hand sucks more than being totally dead, but with both hands?

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
No, you’re right, it sucks more to be you. No question.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
You could show some sympathy.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
You want sympathy?

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
So what’re you gonna miss?

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
About being alive?

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
No, about being trapped under a car.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
This is gonna sound sick, but I miss having her arms around me. And holding her hand.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
That’s sweet.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
What about you? How did you get it?

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Well, I had just come home from a night out. But unlike you, I wasn’t having an affair. And I came in the house, hung up my coat, and went into the kitchen. We’ve got a little TV in there, so I turned it on to see what’s happening, while I put my tools under the sink. And a news bulletin comes on about the two latest victims. A young couple in a convertible up at lake bluff.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
That’s us! That’s me and my girlfriend.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
The driver was found bludgeoned to death at the scene. And the other one had been rushed to the hospital in serious condition.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
She’s pretty lucky, actually.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Yes, one would expect her to bleed to death from an injury like that.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Maybe she can describe the guy!

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
That’s exactly right. They said she was expected to make a full recovery, and she’d given the police a full description, and they were hoping to have a suspect in custody within the hour.

FIRST GHOST STORYTELLER
You must have been relieved.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
No, because that’s when I heard something moving around in the bushes outside my window. And before I could even reach for the knife I keep under the sink, the kitchen door, slammed open, and three police officers burst into the room with their guns drawn, shouting, "Freeze! Don’t do it! Don’t do it!" And when I didn’t freeze, they opened fire and shot me dead. 37 times.

SECOND GHOST STORYTELLER
Holy shit.

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
Y’know what I'm gonna miss most about being alive?

THIRD GHOST STORYTELLER
People dying when I stab them. Hee hee hee heh heh...