Skeletons Don’t Pull Their Punches

Instead of writing a post about last night’s debacle debate I decided to keep on with the next installment of our heroes quest. At this point in the election cycle, I’m sure no one’s disappointed. We’re over-saturated with content and the jokes pretty much write themselves.

So, last time, we left our hero exploring the haunted mansion. Let’s see what sort of trouble he can get himself into today.

The skeleton of a bulldog slammed into Ben’s shin.

“Ow!” He reached down to rub the lump.

The cockatrice on his shoulder chittered at the dog.

The bulldog sat on its haunches and whimpered.

“Aw, come here.” The imp reached for the skeletal dog. “Did the nasty boy frighten you?” Barty scratched behind the dog’s ears…or, at least, where the ears used to be.

The dog’s tail wagged, thumping against the floor.

Batilda crouched beside the dog. It leapt into her arms and nuzzled her face. Bone ground upon bone.

Ben shuddered.

“Are Scratch and Mitch still fight?” Barty asked.

Winifred shrugged. “Like a cat and a dog.”

On Batilda’s lap, Scratch stiffened. Its eye holes focused on a corner of the room. A cat’s skeleton froze. It arched its back and hissed at scratch.

“No, Scratch.” Batilda hugged Scratch close. “Leave Mitch alone.”

The cat darted out of the room and disappeared in the shadows that shrouded the hall. Scratch squirmed in Batilda’s skinny arms. The dog broke free and with a triumphant bark, bounded after the cat.

“Oh no!” Batilda chased after them; her lantern forgotten upon the floor.

Crunchy chuckled. “They’ll be at it for eternity.” The old pirate rubbed his chin with his hook.

“Well, I think that’s our cue.” Ben stood and snuck toward the front door.

Crunchy wrapped an arm around Ben’s shoulder, pulling him close. The gold tooth gleamed. “You ain’t seen the best part yet.”

“We’ve taken up enough of your time.” Ben untangled himself from the pirate’s grasp.

“Nonsense, you’re like family.” Crunchy pointed his hook at the imp. “Any friend of Barty’s deserves the royal treatment.”

Ben gulped. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Fine.” The pirate clacked his teeth together. “I was going to show your our scariest booth, but perhaps you ain’t ready for it just yet.”

Ben schooled his face, to keep his relief from showing.

“New this year, too.” Crunchy twisted his toes into the carpet.

Ben glanced at the imp.

Barty shrugged.

Ben looked at the cockatrice. “What do you think?”

The cockatrice nodded and warbled.

“Out voted.” Ben sighed. “Lead the way, Captain Crunchy.”

“Actually, it’s first mate. The captain went down with the ship.” Crunchy’s peg leg clanked against the tile in the hall. “Haven’t seen him in years.”

Barty grabbed Ben’s shoulder. “Best not inquire too deeply; unless you want a long, dusty tale without adventure.”

Ben nodded.

Crunchy stopped outside a closed door. He leaned against it and grinned. “Ready?” He pushed open the door.

Two cobweb-laced podiums stood in the center of the room. A decrepit skeleton leaned against each one, cobwebs holding them in place.

Ben scratched his head. “Politicians?”

Crunchy turned away. “I can only look for so long.”

Barty elbowed Crunchy in the ribs. “Who’re you voting for?”

“Democrat. Registered the day I died.”

So, what do you think will happen?  What do you want to happen?  Was it too short?  Too long?  Too unfunny?

Yep, that’s right.  I’m soliciting comments and suggestions.  I may even use them.  No matter how wacky, zany, nerdy, or weird.  No matter how serious, fanciful, or sci-fi.  It’s a choose your own adventure.  You choose what happens next because I’m just not that creative.


About bkreuch

I like to read, I like to write, and I like to make people laugh.
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