It's a dark and stormy night — All Saints Day, a sacred religious holiday perverted by the hedonistic, pot-smoking Pagans for their own use: AKA "All Hallow's Eve" — two wacky opposing ideas which coincide in one strange marketing extravaganza at the end of October — a Children's Crusade For Candy that has been requisitioned by The Adults and turned into an excuse to wear silly costumes, get drunk, and hit on sexual prey while dressed up as a cartoon character.
I'm alone, half-dozing — as I await the sound of the doorbell and tiny, obnoxious voices. I gaze at the bowl of candy and wonder if I'll be stuck with four pounds of miniature Butterfingers... Or if mini-vans from the poor side of town will arrive to plunder and pillage my inadequate supply. Will I run out...
...and be the target of a vindictive work of toilet paper yard-art?
Or worse yet, will no one show up — leaving me with a six-year supply of sugar pellets!?
My Bernard Herrmann compilation soundtrack CD has just finished. The neighborhood is silent. My eyes grow heavy, and as I drift in and out of a disturbed sleep, a fog rises before me — and a spooky road appears on the outskirts of what might be Burleson, Texas. There is a large white building. A tall steeple. A crowd of squeaky-clean teenagers wearing "Creed" t-shirts is gathered in the parking lot. I have the feeling I'm about to be sacred straight.
I park my car in front of The First Baptist Church: a sign in front says: "The Madelyn Murray-O'Hair Memorial Haunted House."
Now I know I'm about to be sacred straight!
To get from the parking lot to the building, I have to pass through a gauntlet of anti-abortion picketers who block my path. Their faces — which resemble the mask from the movie "Scream" — surround me chanting "Murderer! Baby-Killer! Monster! Liberal!"
A sign over the entrance reads, "HELL: Where The Fun Begins!"
"But whose fun?" I wonder.
In the first room, I'm met by a 70 year-old man with a shiny suit and a jet-black pompadour. The juxtaposition of his advanced age coupled with his coal black rug are terrifying. His eyes roll back in his head as he starts to speak in tongues. His voice resembles Bob Dylan as he mumbles "You've gotta serve someone..." — BACKWARDS!
Brrrrr.
In the next room, a TV evangelist with bulging eyes is ranting over a 600 lb. woman on crutches. With a wave of his hand and a few quotes from the Bible, he is able to heal all sorts of physical afflictions in other people, from minor inconveniences to chronic and terminal illnesses that are deemed incurable by medical science. Despite this, it appears he's unable to cure his own thyroid problem, not to mention his unsightly baldness.
Article comments
1 - Eric Olsen
hilarious, well done, scary, thanks Shark!
2 - andy marsh
scared the hell out of me! good story! What did they want?
3 - el poquito
reality is some very scary shit! could you leave the lights on? thanks, shark.