NICETOBER STORY #10:
Hooray for the local library! Hooray for librarians and all the helpful services they provide! Hip hip hooray for all that stuff!
NICETOBER STORY #9:
it's cool
[Technically not part of the official Spooktober or Nicetober series, this status is still filled with dread, and I find it worthwhile to replicate here.]
Woah, science is fri**in awesome! According to this study by the time I retire all property will be beachfront property
NICETOBER STORIES #8:
Captain James America runs into the room (pissed). He shouts at Toby Stark (ironic man): "Listen here, you fiend, what did you do with my favorite shield? You slime!"
"Why don't you look inside this box?" snickers Toby. James opens the box and his jaw hits the very floor! Because inside it is another ironic man suit, made from parts of his favorite shield.
"I cant believe you'd do such a kind act, Toby," says James America through tears of happiness. "You destroyed my shield and made a beautiful new ironic man suit for me."
"Happy birthday," laughs Toby, grinning.
The world sucks so for a few days we're switching to
NICETOBER STORIES #7:
You, me, Blaz, Ed the Lorcher, Kitty Karen, Seven Kung Fu Kween, and Mickey Roach all sit around the campfire, really goddam full on toasted cheese and s'mores. Seven lets out a big ol burp.
"Bark bark!" barks Idiot the dog, running circles around us.
"Good girl," says Kitty Karen. "You know what? I think this might be heaven, guys. It's just that nice."
"You're right, Kitty Karen," says Ed the Lorcher. "This is pretty nice. Maybe we died and went to heaven."
All of us nod and pat our full bellies. Maybe it is heaven!
But it's not. It's just a really pleasant evening.
SPOOKTOBER STORY #6:
day 1152: the nightmare continues. i am now starting to doubt that the voices will get to "orange you glad i didn't say banana" while i still live. god help me. god help us all.
SPOOKTOBER STORY #5:
Time doesn't really heal any wounds, you're just slowly callusing and losing the capacity to feel real emotions. Soon everything will be gray and dim, and then you'll die.
SPOOKTOBER STORY #4:
Neil Young’s hat shivers in quiet ecstacy, feasting upon his brain. It rocks gently back and forth, letting its long, needle-like teeth sink further into his skull, the thick, muscular tube of its tongue rolling gray matter up through its core. Neil Young doesn’t love getting his brain sucked out by his hat, but over the years he’s gotten used to it. The first few days after are always foggy and confused, but something that the hat does regenerates the missing brain parts, so really it’s just an inconvenience. And anyway, the quiet wet rhythm of the tongue’s peristalsis is the perfect tempo for him to play “Only Love Can Break Your Heart” which is nice. Neil Young sighs and lays back, waiting for the fog to come, nodding off to the steady sounds of slurping.
SPOOKTOBER STORY #3:
The BUG.
It's BIG!
I BEG:
"The BOX!"
(To BAG
the BUG.)
Oh BAH
hum BUG!
The BOX
is BAD.
Bye BYE,
you BUM,
this BOY
has BIT
the BIG
one. BAM!
SPOOKTOBER STORY #2:
A skelento that feel sad when u kiss it lmao
SPOOKTOBER STORY #1:
The house hated being haunted. “I hate being haunted,” grumbled the house. “It’s the absolute squirrel pellets, being haunted. And I feel this way because I’m racist against ghosts.”
It was true. The house was incredibly racist, when it came to ghosts and ghouls and poltergeists and so forth. So next time it felt a ghost flutter through its twisting passages, it clattered some cabinets open and shut noisily.
“What’s that all about,” thought the living humans who lived in the racist house.
“What’s that all about,” thought the ghosts who lived in the racist house.
“I’m racist against ghosts!” the racist house tried to shout, but no one could hear it, because it was a house. So it knocked over a hat stand. The falling hat stand accidentally tipped a very hot pan off the stove, and it started a fire in the kitchen of the racist house.
“Uh oh,” thought the racist house.
“Uh oh,” thought the living humans who lived in the racist house, too late.
Now all the living humans are regular ghosts, and have joined the previous ghosts, now haunting the burned up wreckage of the house.
“Too bad about the house,” say the new ghosts.
“No, it’s ok,” say the old ghosts. “The house was pretty racist.”
The end.
[Not technically a Spooktober Story, but still worth watching nonetheless]
Happy Halloween!
SPOOKTOBER STORY #10:
Wait Mister Ghostman
Oh yeah
(Is there a message from beyond for me) Please, Please Mister Ghostman
(Why's it been a very long time) Oh yeah
(Since I heard from this boyfriend of mine)
There must be some word today
From my boyfriend so far away
Please Mister Ghostman, look and see
Is there a message, a message for me
I've been standin' here waitin' Mister Ghostman
So patiently, for just a creak, or just a moan
Sayin' he's returnin' home to me
Please Mister Ghostman (Mister Ghostman, look and see) Oh yeah
(Is there a message from beyond for me?) Please Please Mister Ghostman
(Why's it been a very long time) Oh yeah
(Since I heard from this boyfriend of mine)
So many days you passed me by
You saw the tears standin' in my eye
You wouldn't stop to make me less afraid
By leavin' me a strong breeze or rattlin chains
Please Mister Ghostman look and see (Ghostman Ghostman)
Is there a message oh yeah from beyond for me? (Ghostman Ghostman)
You know its been so long (Ghostman Ghostman)
Yes since I heard from this boyfriend of mine (Ghostman Ghostman)
You better wait a minute, wait a minute
Oh you better wait a minute
Please please Mister Ghostman (Wait a minute Mister Ghostman)
Please check and see just one more time for me
You better wait, wait a minute
Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute
Please Mister Ghostman
Deliver the message the sooner the better
Wait a minute, wait a minute
Wait a minute, please Mister Ghostman
Wait a minute, wait a minute oh oh
SPOOKTOBER STORY #9:
"Well," says Felicia. "When I was 13, I thought everything would be ok when I turned 15. When I was 15, I thought everything would be ok when I came of age. Then at 18, 21, and at 21, 30.
But I'm 35 right now and I'm sadder and lonelier than I've ever been. Is it going to keep going like this? When I die, will I be the saddest and loneliest I'll ever be?"
The mirror didn't have any answers for Felicia, but the answer was: "Probably. That's how it works for most people."
SPOOKTOBER STORY #8:
You bite into a sandwich,
but it's filled with bugs!
You turn on the shower,
but it's filled with bugs!
You flee outside,
but it's filled with bugs!
You open your mouth to scream,
but it's filled with bugs!
SPOOKTOBER STORY #7:
It says "Try Not To Laugh Challenge: Hilarious Idiot Fails!," and you're excited to try, but it turns out that not laughing is very easy when the link leads to a hidden camera live-stream of your apartment.
SPOOKTOBER STORY #6:
This one's about aliens. I know, I know, aliens aren't really spooky, even though everybody always says the most frightening thing is "fear of the unknown," and ain't nobody ever met a alien. I blame E.T., that pudgy little rumpled up Slim Jim, making everybody love ugly outer-space idiots who probably don't even breathe oxygen.
But anyway for the point of this Spooktober Story you just have to believe me that the possibility of extraterrestrial life is spooky. Maybe they want to eat our guts, or take all of our stuff. Why do aliens on the tv always want to invade Earth for our resources? We don't even have enough resources for ourselves, we're always running out of oil fields to frack or cactuses to turn into tequila or whatever. Invade an asteroid belt if you love resources so much, you smooth-skinned freaks!
So sort of what's going on in this one is that there's an alien, but you sort of just have to pretend that aliens are inherently frightening, like draculas or swamp things. I mean that's basically the point, if you can't roll with that central conceit, then the rest of it isn't really going to make that much sense, and you're definitely not going to get the wibbles about it...
...you know what, never mind about this one. The next one's really going to spook your socks off, though! It's about that big dumb dinosaur in Loch Ness that loves to only get photographed by potatoes.
SPOOKTOBER STORY #5:
Time and distance rounds off the edges of things. How old am I? Seventy-one this year. That's a lot of time, a lot of distance, a lot of memories. A lot of rounded edges.
The first time I kissed Rebecca, you've never seen such fireworks! Wow! My heart ka-thump-a ka-thump-a so loud in my ears I thought they'd burst! Standing under the tree by her papa's house, her small tender hand in my big flat paw, to the echo of her sister practicing scales. Now this is a memory. She was beautiful, and she loved me, and I loved her. We were married in April, and there were blossoms in the trees.
The years after that, not so good. I was a real schmuck and I did a lot of dumb stuff. Rebecca left me and took little Jim and I never saw them again. There was a lot of pain, years of pain, but those sharp bits are rounded out, those corners gone.
All I can remember is that kiss.
So what? You think that's a good thing, maybe. Let an old man to his happy memories, you think? No, sir. I wake up every morning, terrified, thinking: what corners rounded off today? Every day I lose another year, of pain, maybe, but it's my pain.
Soon, I'll start losing the good memories, too. And what then, I wander around, haunting my damn empty house, till eventually, quietly, I slip from being a living ghost to a dead one. I won't even notice. All my corners will have been rounded away.
SPOOKTOBER STORY #3:
Benny died, and now he's a ghost.
"Nobody likes me now that I'm a ghost," says Benny.
Well... nobody much liked you when you were alive either, Benny.