The Haunted Zamboni, by Jamie Loftus

zamboni

Hello my name is Jamie and this is a scary story called The Haunted Zamboni.

Once upon a time, there was a haunted zamboni and a zamboni driver named Fig. If you don’t know what a zamboni is, it is what they bring out onto the ice at halftime during a hockey game to make the ice smooth again. Zambonis are also great listeners and generous lovers. Fig and the zamboni were best friends, and spent every day together, so they were always in the rink because zambonis are hard to transport.

Actually, it’s not too difficult if you have the right zamboni dismantling parts and a large vehicle to move the zamboni in, like a moving truck or a helicopter you don’t mind getting into an accident, because the zamboni would be too heavy for a helicopter.

All the neighborhood kids would say that the zamboni was haunted. Just look at this neighborhood kid — (grab anyone and give them slip of paper that says “that zamboni is haunted”) — “That zamboni is haunted”. Wow. The rumors are really flying.

Fig did not believe that the zamboni was haunted — the zamboni was his friend, who listened to Fig talk about his stupid and bad interests like beach towels and the width of sandwich meat, and the zamboni never said anything because it was a zamboni. The zamboni was so patient with Fig that it even let him practice kissing on it! Mmmmmmmwah.

One day, a fifteen year old boy named kent skated over to fig and said, “hey, jackass, it’s the anniversary of the zamboni murders. Also, my dad is a security guard here and he says there is footage of you kissing the zamboni at night.”

“Did you say Zamboni murders?” Fig asked.

“Yes,” said Kent. “I also said — “

“What about these zamboni murders?” Fig said.

“Well,” said Kent, “my dad says — well, besides the fact that he saw you getting intimate with that zamboni at night — he also says, that a long time ago, there was a zamboni operator who drove that very zamboni and one night, the zamboni came to life saying he possessed by the ghost of Sam Zamboni and he demanded satisfaction.”

“Sam Zamboni?” asked Fig.

“Sam Zamboni,” said Kent.

“Sam Zamboni,” they said, this time in unison.

“They say his ghost possesses that zamboni once a year,” Kent said, “and tonight’s the night. Also, my dad asked if you could stop kissing that -”

“See you later, Kent,” Fig said, leaving Kent in the dust.

That night, Fig did what he always did — bought six double cheeseburgers and ate them while stroking the zamboni. Still, he couldn’t forget Kent’s story — what if the zamboni really was haunted? Could Fig kill for the zamboni? Or would the zamboni kill Fig?

Just as Fig was finishing his last double cheeseburger and was just about ready to vomit, the zamboni began to shake. Fig kissed the zamboni frantically — had he offended it? Did the zamboni want a double cheeseburger?

Suddenly, the zamboni began to glow a haunted glow and hovered six feet above the floor. Fig was now scared enough to throw up those double cheeseburgers, so he did.

“I am the ghost of Sam Zamboni,” the zamboni exclaimed, “and I demand satisfaction!”

Kent thought he had more to throw up, but it was just a burp. “Zamboni, you’re real! My kisses, you felt them!” he said.

“I demand satisfaction!” said the zamboni.

“What satisfaction do you crave?” Fig asked. The zamboni said nothing, and lowered back to the ice. It seat began glowing ever brighter, beckoning Fig to sit upon the chair he had kissed so many a time.

“Yes, haunted zamboni,” Fig said, and got in the driver’s seat.

The zamboni began to drive as “Black Hole Sun” began blaring through the local ice arena. Fig didn’t know where the zamboni was driving or why, but it hummed warm beneath him and he was at peace.

Suddenly, Fig heard a voice.

“You perverted old zamboni driver!” said a man in a police officer’s uniform from iParty.

It was Kent’s dad, the security guard who was trying a new outfit out because his therapist said that dressing authoritative may make him feel more authoritative. The haunted zamboni turned to Kent’s dad as the masterpiece “Black Hole Sun,” maybe the slowest but also loudest song in the history of music, lurched into yet another verse.

“Zamboni, what are you doing?” Fig said as the zamboni began to pick up speed, hot in pursuit of Kent’s dad.

“I demand satisfaction!” the zamboni wailed, as Kent’s dad began to run away, but he was on the ice now and looked extremely stupid and slow.

CRACK! The haunted zamboni ran over Kent’s dad, killing him instantly and altering the course of Kent’s life from what would have been a successful career in criminal law and instead sending him on the path to be the first peeping tom to ever win a Pulitzer Prize.

“Oh my god, he’s dead, he’s dead!” said Fig. “Zamboni, are you at last satisfied?”

“I demand satisfaction!” the zamboni cried once more, running over Kent’s dad’s body a few times, getting tired of it, and dragging a trail of blood behind it as it drove to the center of the rink.

Fig leaped out of the zamboni, covered in blood and desperate. He was starting to think this zamboni….might be haunted.

“Please, zamboni!!” Fig said, falling to his knees as “Black Hole Sun” swelled to it nineteenth chorus. “Please!”

“I demand satisfaction!” the zamboni screeched a final time as Fig leaned in to give the zamboni true love’s kiss.

Mmmmmmmmmwah :)

Suddenly, pixie dust filled the air and in the place of the haunted zamboni was a stinky old man named Sam Zamboni.

“Sam Zamboni?” asked Fig.

“Sam Zamboni,” Sam Zamboni confirmed.

“Sam Zamboni,” they said, this time in unison.

“Police, freeze!” shouted an actual police officer, not a low self-esteem basket case like Kent’s dead dad. Fig stood in panic.

“I can explain!” he said.

“This is Officer Tyler Winklevoss with the zamboni crimes division. Yeah I know that’s stupid, now where’s that zamboni you were kissing?”

Sam Zamboni stood. “I was the zamboni,” he said, looking to Fig. “And that is the man I love-”

Bang! Bang! Officer Winklevoss shot Sam Zamboni to death, then walked over to Fig. Well, actually, he was walking across the ice so he slipped a couple times and it took six minutes.

“You okay, son?” the officer asked. Fig looked at Sam Zamboni’s dead body, and the strewn body parts of Kent’s dead dad. He thought about how there wasn’t a female character in this entire story, and how even though it wasn’t done intentionally, he was worried that people would think it was.

“Officer, turns out that zamboni was haunted,” Fig said.

Officer Winklevoss laughed. “Get back to work, son!” he said.

“I don’t think I can,” Fig said. “I don’t think I have a job now.” But he was wrong, and Fig licked the ice rink in its entirety at halftime at every game until he died fifty years later.

THE END