here is where i tell you a story

in the spirit of the ever-nearing day of october 31st, i will tell you a story of spook and span like you've never known before.

props to m. for inspiring this as she reminded me of scream-barfing from one of her comments.

*note: this is based on a true story - that does not mean my words are all true.

the night sky was dreary and sticky and the sidewalks were slick with sky-sweat and beer. the stairs winding up and down the various capital complex entrances were sheened with the dewy effects of a thunderstorm to come. patrons, sporting wiry, puffy clouds of hair, slipped and slid their way down and through piles of slurring faces. sweat stains turned pink cottons to red, blue to black. my friends and i nested along the barrier of the patio. i drank my pickaroons through a straw. thick, blue smoke turned us grey and white and the cross-hatch music mix of patio playlist and inside indie band made already-swimming heads spin.

the approaching storm did not make for a carefree environment for which to sip and slur. we did not nest for long on the patio. our bellies brimmed with beer and our wallets holding only coin, we walked home.

at 1:30am the intersection at york and george found us hiding from screaming banshees in cars. two years following that night, the apartment building on said intersection was destroyed by a fire. the banshees must have squealed a hex upon which the nearby church could not cleanse.

at 1:45am my stoop welcomed us with slippery arms and promises of indoor fanning. as we climbed the sodden carpet to my sleeping-den, banshees continued to fly by and squeal outside.

finally, at 2:30am, we thought the out-of-doors demons could only be avoided by an exercism. not an exorcism. we literally sweated our way through a symphony of squeals, hoping to drown out the incessant noise with perspiration. once exhausted, sleep stole the light from our eyes and we left our bodies to lie...

4:30am. shaken from sleep, our ripping eyes sprung open and our breath quickened. our ears shook with anticipation as the most terrible sound sat directly beneath my window. a stale smell flung tears from our eyes and for a moment we thought we were just dreaming through a nightmare. lightning cracked and another heave was heard. and another. and then ten in a row. it was almost as if we were growing closer to the sound. no, not physically, we were still bleary in the window, but the aftershock of the strange thrusts of sounds were followed by whimpers, then by profanities. was someone trying to break in? did a screaming banshee get lost behind from its vehicular safety and was this its call of fear? is there a werewolf on the loose?

after wiping the sleep from my eyes and gathering my soul in my hands so that i may push myself closer to the window edge, i gasped in horror. i squelched in disgust and i sneezed in sympathy. what laid restlessly below my window was not a spook. it was not a banshee nor was it a werewolf or thief. the eruption of sound and splash was spewing from the notorious scream-barfer.

not one of the three of us gained much sleep that night.

happy almost halloween!