Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The Empire Collapse... or where is the catalogue

Around the town could be heard the squeals of delight, the spooks and goblins circulated the neighborhood. It had been a night of ghouls, pranksters and witches decorating the streets. Cars were parked in the middle of the street, a small plane was perched on store top and TP floated off trees. The witching hour was approaching and miniature spooks were seeking out their nests to check out their treasure from the evening. Noise was abating, an occasional car cruising down main street and most lights were no longer glowing.

Quietly the neighborhood settled in for the night. Stump had turned off his yard light and was headed for bed. Out of the backyard came a resounding crash and thump. Quickly he rushed out the back door. Dark figures were scurrying in the alley, laughs and guffaws echoed over the yard. Stump glanced over his yard, no longer was his little house standing. In anger he went running after the dark shapes, bent on catching them. As he went bursting down the steps across the yard, he heard screeches and yells of fear.

The cries rang out, “It’s a ghost, run for yer life.” Stump was dressed for bed, he had his night shirt on and nite cap. As he raced across the yard it gave the appearance of floating over the ground and the flannel nite shirt had faded to almost white. Waving his arms, hollering and the tassel on nite cap flapping he had set the dark figures to fear.

Just as quickly as Stump appeared he disappeared. Where the little house had once set was now an open pit. In to this hole Stump tumbled. Flames of blue came flying up out of the pit. The figures stopped, turned gazing back at the blue fire boiling up. Stump had been in the Navy and every word he had learned echoed across the neighborhood.

Stumps handy work had revealed itself. All those years after plumbing had been installed, Stump kept his little building out back. Receiving paint over the years as it needed it. The privy had been untouched all those years. This year was a challenge to the local boys and they had succeeded in tipping over the one out house that had stood for decades.

Mouths open, the boys stood in the alley, staring at the blue flame flickering out of the pit. Never before had they heard such racket. There were other footsteps on the side of the house, the local patrol had heard the commotion and were seeking out the racket. Rounding the house to the backyard they had to pause and catch themselves from bursting out laughing. There was a tasseled white cap bouncing up and down in the hole and words they had never heard.

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