Haunted House
I’m out on the sidewalk, waiting in line to get into the haunted house, when some little kid pops his head over the railing and says hi. I say hi back and all of a sudden his mother starts shouting at me, accusing me of being Some kind of pervert! and yanks him away.
Stunned What was I supposed to do? I ask rhetorically to the people around me, one of whom I suddenly realize is Kathy L. I mean he said hi to me, I appeal to her, What was I supposed to do?
Just offer him some candy and take him for a car ride
she says in her sardonic way.
Gee, thanks for the advice, Kathy
, I say, gesturing broadly, quite accidently brushing against the bustline which so generously stretches her grey herringbone sweater and then quite on purpose sort of snagging my sleeve button on the wool above it.
She takes a step back, but doesn’t seem to mind, and in fact strikes up a friendly conversation which continues as we file into the old train station which the Jaycees have set up as a haunted house.
As we wind past the ticket booth I playfully punch her on the shoulder So, old girl, tell me, what have you been doing with the rest of your life?
Well, old boy, I guess you don’t know me well enough to have heard about the last time I died.
Oh, really
, I say, thoroughly taken aback.
Yeah, really. I’ve had some serious health problems. They barely brought me back last time.
Oh, come to think of it maybe I did hear something about that.
Quite naturally this puts a damper on things, but I’m determined not to let her get away and follow her through the turnstile. But you’re O.K. now, I hope.
Oh, yeah, she says, smiling. Either that or I’m one of the ghosts and she clutches my arm as the screams start from inside the tunnel.
A Leak In The Safe 