We were truck driving just west of the Rockies, on a coast to coast tour of junky junctions and obsolescence peppered with rumored ghost houses. We came to a crossroads. One direction was labelled “Ralph Macchio,” and the other “Britney Spears.” The scarecrow wasn’t any real help. The radio transmitted a rare broadcast of the fantastic paranormal podcast radio show called ILLUMINATI BY NATURE, something about a cursed bend in a river, with witches floating down the African village road, people turning into snakes and birds. The blackest crows appeared from the murder confetti. The uglier one was called “Chris,” the ugliest named “Robinson.” Our money maker shook all the way down that dirt corridor. I am still not sure which direction we chose. A hitchhiker appeared to glow in old white garb and stood on the edge of the desolate road. We ran him over just to make sure he was not a specter from beyond. Fear can really influence a person. Everyone behind us must now deal with the urban legend that was created that night. Sorry!
The Eureka Inn has a manifestation in the lady’s room shitter. A spirit with booooobs. Ghosts are stirring in the kitchen; seems appropriate. Unfinished business, I guess. Chocolate chip spookies. I wonder what the old loggers and their ilk think about the (19)80s dance night there in the bar. That’s probably the one night of the week where the dead are truly terrified by the living. So far it seems as though the resident spirits don’t mind the comedy nights, but they probably don’t get a lot of the jokes. Here’s one that I thought of a while ago: Q: What does a depressed ghost say? A: “I wish I was not dead!” Call me stupidstitious, but I have yet to do that one at any of the open mics in the haunted Eureka Inn, but only because that joke kind of sucks.
My mother had an out of body experience when she was young. With a warm feeling of no fear she hovered over her body as it floated in the ocean before being rescued by a swimmer. She later awoke in a recovery room where she first thought there were two sinks. I had an out of body experience thanks to my mother, when I was a really little kid. When I was a really, really, really, really, really little kid. A baby. When I was born. My mother’s body. It was an experience. Now days I have an out of body experience every time I pull out! Or at least that is how I like to look at it.
I don’t believe in guardian angels, but I do believe that there are dead midgets who have watched me have sex. It’s kind of the same thing. This morning I poured milk on my great grandfather’s ashes. “Reincarnation Instant Breakfast.” He wasn’t that “great.” Jeffrey Dahmer can eat a bowl of dicks.
I was in the forest, and I ran into Bigfoot. He was very upset. I said, “What’s wrong, Bigfoot?” It turns out that the girl that he likes, she doesn’t even know that he exists. A lot of people don’t believe in Bigfoot because they never found a body. Well, now you know why I don’t believe in “Jesus.” If you wanted Grandma to go to Heaven so bad, then why did you put her in the ground? Now she’s closer to Hell!
My dying wish is going to be, “I hope I don’t die!”
But when I do die, if I do die, and if I can indeed come back, maybe I will be lucky enough to haunt the 80s night at the Eureka Inn.