Friday, October 23, 2009

Frightening Friday: The Babysitters Who Go Check Out That Mysterious Noise Alone Club

Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the internet, Friday rolls around again, and you think, "Ah, the end of the work week." And then I leap out of the internet equivalent of the bushes wearing the internet equivalent of a terrifying werewolf mask and cry, "The end of the work week...and ABSOLUTE TERROR!" Perhaps you assumed I had given up on frightening the daylights out of you and took up a different hobby, like cross-stitching kittens on throw pillows. But here I am once again with a tale of the utmost ghastliness. It's time once again for Frightening Friday!

So, prepare yourself. Put down that flaming hot soup and pick up something that won't make a flaming hot mess in your lap if you begin to quake with fear.

And so we begin...

Christie was a babysitter. Not only that, she was the best babysitter ever. If the kid she was babysitting was hungry, she fed the kid a very nutritious meal. If the kid wanted to play a stupid board game like Chutes and Ladders, Christie played it until her eyes bled and pretended like she was having just the most fun. And if the kid's parents said, "Kid needs to be in bed by 7:30," Christie gave the kid a Quaalude at 7:10 on the button.

And so Christie found herself one Halloween night sitting on the couch at one of her very frequent babysitting gigs and thinking, "Kid sleeping, plenty of popcorn, and a movie. This is the life. Absolutely nothing bad could ever happen." But of course, whenever an innocent babysitter thinks those thoughts, something terrible is bound to happen.

I should mention at this point that the house where Christie was babysitting stood in the middle of a very dark and very spooky forest. Near a bottomless pit, and a cemetery, and a bog, and an abandoned mental hospital, and a Civil War battleground, and a place where some kids drove off a cliff on prom night and died. The parents and their kid chose that place to live because they were not allowed to keep their shed full of antique swords, axes, and torture devices within the city limits, and the rent was totes cheap because there was no electricity. (Right now you're thinking, "I thought Christie was watching a movie." She was watching it on her laptop and had many backup batteries. Now, just read the story.)

And so Christie was watching her movie by candlelight. The kid was snoring away innocently as a cherub in his bed shaped like a race car. And just then....the phone rang.

"Hello?" said Christie.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" said a raspy voice.

"I don't watch scary movies because I love Jesus," said Christie. And then, she hung up.

And so, Christie continued to watch her movie, which was getting really good. (The Titanic had just hit an iceberg, and everyone was likely doomed, except Kate Winslet.)

And suddenly, there was a scratching noise at the window. "Scritch scritch scritch," went the noise, which sounded very much like a mental patient with untrimmed fingernails scratching on a pane of glass. Christie glanced up from her movie.

"Who's there?" she called.

"Mwahahahahaha!" came the reply. "It's me. A murderer with a hook for a hand. And I'm hiding in your bushes."

"Oh," said Christie. "Were you planning on murdering me or something?"

"No," said the murderer, "Just hiding from the cops. Is that okay?"

And because Christie was the best babysitter ever, she responded, "Probably not. You're a stranger, and I'm here all alone, save for a sleeping child."

So, the hook-handed murderer very politely went elsewhere to hide because he didn't like children. (They have sticky hands and smell like bologna, which is a very impolite generalization to make, but hook-handed murderers are only polite about certain things.)

Christie became engrossed in her movie again. And suddenly, there was a thumping noise from upstairs.

"Thump thump thump," went the noise, which sounded very much like someone dragging a corpse across a wooden floor.

And then Christie remembered that the house didn't have a second floor, so it must be the vultures who roosted in the trees outside feasting on hook-handed murderer on the roof.

Ten minutes later, the parents of the sleeping child arrived home from their Halloween party. And because it was Halloween, they paid Christie $8 an hour instead of her usual $4 (and gave her a fun-sized Snickers bar, which was her favorite.) Christie pedaled home through the darkness on her bicycle, only slowing down once to run over a zombie cat that someone had buried in the nearby pet sematary.


**The pictured haunted dwelling is not necessarily the one from the story, but one that is much more haunted and therefore much more terrifying.


wilsonbilson said...

"I don't watch scary movies because I love Jesus..."

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@WB: I can't lie. I snickered a little when I wrote it.

wilsonbilson said...

I really did think it was safe to go back to the internet after that can crushing boob thing. I guess I was DEAD WRONG.

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@WB: AAAAA! I just cleaned my brain of that.

wilsonbilson said...

I'm still tidying up.

Jen said...

Not to generalize, but the escaped mental patient's right--most kids do have sticky hands and smell like bologna.

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@Jen: Maybe he wasn't so crazy after all. I mean, just because you have a hook for a hand and have murdered a few people doesn't make you all bad. Right? Right?

Johnny P. Coaltrain said...

Christie gave the kid a Quaalude. With milk I hope.

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@JPC: Nope. Bourbon.

Johnny P. Coaltrain said...

My kinda babysitter.

Joe Berkowitz said...

"I don't watch scary movies because I love Jesus"