One Night at the Haunted House

Uncle Cleaver finally died -- Yea! -- and left me the old family place in the country, a scary looking old place -- Crummy Manor. I was there for the reading of the will, seated at the head of the table, around which was a fearsome assortment of angry looking retainers. Uncle's cook, butler, gardener, handyman, and maid. They'd been with him for ages and there I sat, more or less a stranger but the last possible guy in the family who could inherit the place. I felt quite out of place and unwelcome. They shot me daggers.

The lawyer read off each of their names, with each in turn looking downcast upon inheriting nothing. That said, I was a little leery when the will specified that they could still share the manor jointly, if the rightful heir was unable to stay one night. I thought, "What? One night? How hard could it be?" I looked around and imagined their devious thoughts, seeing the grinning, rubbing of hands, and furtive glances at one another.

I felt a tremendous fear well up in me. Then I thought, "Hey, I've seen this movie before!" I called bullshit on the whole thing. I just laid it on the line: "I know you're going to do your damnedest to chase me out, but the truth is I'm not gonna let you. I've got your number, each one of you." I set in listing their schemes. The gardener would have a metal garden claw, the cook poisoned food, the butler knows every secret passageway, the handyman's good with traps, and the maid would get me in bed, the bed would fold up in the wall and I'd be impaled.

If none of that worked, the same cast of characters, no doubt, had costumes hanging inside the walls, a ghost, a werewolf, a skeleton, a leopard, and a French maid dress. In addition to the impaling bed, there'd be poison darts, a noose, a trapdoor, a flaming boulder at the end of a catapult, and a tray of ice cubes for the maid, if things got too hot. I came right out with it, "Each of you scalawags is prepared to do anything you have to to inherit Crummy Manor."

The telling glances continued as I spoke. I looked at the handyman, twiddling his thumbs. And the butler, nervously tugging at his cummerbund. And the maid, hitching up her bra and fanning herself. I knew they were all dangerous in their own way, but I kept my eye on the maid the most, never knowing if I might catch a free shot. She shot me a private glance that I read as a request for a private meeting.

I stood to my feet and slammed my fist on the table, "Gentlemen, I've seen it all before. Let's just cut the crap, OK? If anything happens, if anyone jumps out at me through the night, I know it's gonna be you guys. I don't believe in ghosts, werewolves, walking skeletons, or any of it." Then Greta and I stepped out and I shared with her some of my private fantasies.

She and I passed into a secluded hallway, where we kissed longingly. She saw I was an extremely affectionate soul and broke down in tears, confessing the whole scheme to cheat me out of my inheritance. I swore that if she were true to me, good things would come her way. She looked in my eyes and saw the sincerity. I thought to myself, "I may just give the entire estate to Greta, for her honesty." I turned the thought over in my mind.

She pulled out a detailed list of the evening's schemes, with all the stuff I expected, darts on wires, a skeleton suit, and most intriguing of all, a stunning seduction scene, in which she and I would be sharing a bottle of wine. Then when I set my glass on the table and we commenced a full love scene, a hand would reach out of the drawer and switch it with poison. "How tedious," I said, "I've seen it all before!"

By now, though, I figured the rest of the staff knew I knew, so Greta and I would be safe. But just to be extra sure of not being observed in flagrante delicto, I put masking tape over the eyes of the paintings on the walls. Then it was time to bear down and get this show on the road. I was kissing and stroking Greta, who indeed did come prepared with a French maid outfit, which she was very proficient at wriggling in and out of. Ooo la la, I purred, the only French I know.

I hate to spell everything out -- it's possible someone under 18 might read this, under 16 in Arkansas -- but we were building toward the decisive moment. Our breathing was heavy, our eyes were rolled back, we were panting, there were bold declarations of love, and I for one was all hands. It wouldn't be--- too long--- now------- when, The doors of the wardrobe burst open, and out stepped Uncle Cleaver, very much alive, not a corpse, not a ghost. Himself, in the flesh!

He boasted of staging this entire spectacle, having suspected Greta of being unfaithful to him, etc., etc., and knowing that the arrival of his nephew would only constitute "fresh meat" in her eyes, with which to fulfill her lustful ways. She pulled the sheets up almost to her eyes and was shivering in fear, white as a sheet. Cleaver came at her, very sharp in his tone, and very strong, having lost his grip. He shouted insults at her. She pleaded, "You were dead, Cleve, I thought you were dead!"

"So this is how you console yourself, in the arms of my fool nephew!" The rest of the story doesn't matter much. I got the hell out of there. Greta's now cooking at the diner downtown. I see her once in a while. I don't say much. But it's on always my mind, how close we were to the very top, then Cleaver had to jump out. I'd like to ask her out and pick up where we left off .... or start over ... probably about have to start over.

Let's Protect The Ghosts' Habitats

I'm going to get right to it: I hate all the ghost shows on TV.

The one put on by the former Roto-Rooter guys, if I'm not mistaken, was the first, and still appears to be the most humane. But it's still not good, since the respect for ghosts and their habitat is clearly way down the list. The one put on by the loudmouth guy who "never believed in ghosts until I came face to face with one" is the worst I've seen. We're trying to track down the ghost who came face to face with him and ask him next time to be more discriminating about who he meets. Then there's other ghost shows that I've only seen snippets of when passing through the room. They also suck.

The way it works on these shows: They're always seeking out someplace that's reported ghostly activities. Then they go in and set up for a night or so, and that's where the havoc begins. They're busy going room to room, with their night vision cameras, various sensors and apparatus, and their own feelings. They're always feeling a cold chill on their neck, or what have you. The loudmouth's show now even has some sort of speech synthesizer, a computer that interprets random noises as possible words, giving them the opportunity to "interview" a ghost based on a few squeaks of a rusty hinge. Make the door go back and forth and you might hear comments like, "Yes," "No," and "Leave us the f*** alone!" I'll let you guess which was the actual ghost talking.

Because to be left alone, that's it, that's really what the ghosts want. They don't find any joy in visitors just barging in uninvited and disturbing their peace. Especially after dark, which to them is their life. That's when they're up, trying to enjoy their lives. And they're not looking for company, for TV personalities to be recording (without permission) their activities or tracking their whereabouts. Imagine how you'd feel if a TV crew busted into your house and set up shop for a day or more, especially if they weren't paying you.

For these TV characters, it's all big money. In our 'anything for a buck' society, of course, anything goes. Even this kind of thing, as disturbing as it is. Tell me, when is the last time you saw anything like actual respect out of these people for the ghosts? It's a simple question, because you haven't. They're simply full of bluster, trying to take on the ghosts in an uncaring way. Watch how they're always casually inviting the ghosts to come and speak to them. Then as soon as there's the slightest unexplained noise, they freak out, yelling, "Did you hear that?!" Then when their fear subsides, they do it all over again.

The most revolting things I've seen are on the loudmouth's show, where he literally taunts the ghosts. He's bellowing at the top of his lungs, "You dirty son of a bitch, I'm not afraid of you, come out and show yourself and I'll kick your ass, you filthy ghost!" Seriously, folks, how can this be of any help to anyone? The guy needs a new line of work. Daycare teacher, lunchroom attendant, warden, anything.

I think the time has come -- actually it's way past time -- for us to rise up and start insisting that all these ghost habitats ought to be protected, if not through voluntarily curbing it, then by the law. Because these are very fragile ecosystems, and they shouldn't be callously disturbed. Yes, perhaps some legitimate, level-headed, respectful scientific exploration might still be allowed, seeking knowledge, mutual understanding, and harmony. But not these commercial, exploitative ventures.

I know, they're not always aware of the damage they're doing -- they obviously don't look at this as an environmental issue. So they think they can go in and cause all kinds of havoc and it's going to be all the same, a spiritual wash. Which is exactly where they're wrong. Instead, they're driving ghosts from habitats they've dwelt in for generations, and caused turmoil possibly at the highest levels. We don't know precisely how ghosts fit in the fabric of life. But certainly they indicate a lively existence beyond death, so that's something to respect.

You know what? I'll probably get in trouble for saying this, because I know it's going to show some aggressive tendencies on my part. And perish the thought that anyone do that! Well, I'm sorry. But I'd like to see these creeps and their bluster met head on. What I'm saying is, if I were a ghost, and maybe after I die I will do something like this, I would make these guys on TV sorry. And I mean over and over until they were gone.

If I were a ghost, I'd love to get those bastards on that loudmouth show alone in a haunted house, and -- I'm not going to say precisely what I'd do, except it would end with them strung up from the rafters by their nuts. Is that too harsh? I don't think so, because I'd let them down to relax for a few minutes, before stringing them up again, over and over, until they were ghosts like us. Nothing wrong there! They wanted to know about the ghosts, let them find out firsthand!

Or if I couldn't do all that at once, I'd make sure their cameras and things were completely destroyed. We've seen some of this on the shows, cameras that quit working, sensors that lose their sense. I'd say let's press our invisible advantage all the way and completely obliterate their equipment. Hey, they're screwing around with us and our habitat, let's get them for it! It's not like anyone can really do anything about it. OK, I'm angry, that is very clear. But who wouldn't be when we know what's going on?

Being driven out of your natural habitats, abandoned houses, old prisons, where are they expected to go? If they take up residence in other people's houses, peaceful coexistence is going to be difficult. And let's face it, it's hard for ghosts to maintain their habitats anyway, because someone always wants to tear down old buildings. Or how about this? Protect ghosts because someday we'll be ... ghosts!

The time has come for spiritual respect with a dose of spiritual environmentalism. Don't watch these ghost shows on TV. Please don't contribute to the destruction of ghost habitats.