Holidays, Humor & Personal Growth
No Ghosts in This Haunted House
It’d be a lot easier if there were
There were some peculiar people in the “neighborhood” where I grew up. Beaver Cleaver and Marcia Brady would have run screaming from the hot mess that was my street. As it’s Halloween, I’ll introduce you to a few former neighbors who have doubtless become burdensome ghosts on some other plane of existence.
There was Mrs. Mosely, whose religious ardor did not translate well into the songs loudly emanating from her as she trimmed her hydrangeas. She was a round woman whose girth and prissiness did not align. I almost killed her husband, John, with a bow and arrow. It was an accident. I swear.
Then there was Mrs. Metcalf who bore a religious ardor of a more pamphlet and witness kind of way. I think she was also gravely mentally ill. Even as a child you can sometimes just tell that this specimen gets some extra channels the rest of us don’t. It didn’t help that she later married a violent alcoholic. It’s a tough world.
After she left, her shack was razed and a non-descript car porch house was built on its plot. It…
