The Insane Haunted Barn Of Terror...Part II

The scariest part of the Insane Haunted Barn of Terror was the actual trip getting to the barn. Victims would arrive at our church parking lot and pay their fees and then wait to be transported in the church vans back a long gravel road until they reached the haunted barn. We had blackened the windows of the vans so people couldn't have a look outside to see where they were going. The drivers of the vans were decked out in scary costumes and were forbidden to speak to anyone. Once they got out of town and back on the gravel road they turned the lights off and rode with just their parking lights. It was pitch black. Upon arriving at the barn victims were given the usual instructions about not hitting anyone and attempting to run away screaming somewhere in the woods. They were then taken through the Insane Haunted Barn of Terror where all sorts of bad and unusual things fell upon them. I had fun running the chainsaw and making the little kids scream. Shoot, my mom even came through the barn and I scared her too. I'm not sure how much money we raised for the needy family. I guess the best part about the whole experience is the memory itself. Whenever I go back to my hometown for a reunion conversation always tends to lean towards the Insane Haunted Barn of Terror and how much fun we had. If you need someone to run the chainsaw, just look me up.

The Insane Haunted Barn Of Terror...Part I

One year a few weeks before Halloween my church youth group decided that we were going to put on a haunted house to try and raise money for a needy family. After several failed attempts at locating a structure where we could pursue our aforementioned tasks, it was decided that the only suitable place was inside a barn. This wasn’t one of those small buildings like they have around where I live that they like to call a barn. This was a real barn with a corn crib, stables, hay mounds, a stripping room and a place big enough that you park your combine on the inside if you wanted too. Every night after basketball practice, my friends, Barbie and Anita, and I would go over to the barn and help with the decorating. We would try to help anyway; actually, we didn’t really do a lot of anything. We couldn’t move. Our young muscles were so sore from going through basketball drills and conditioning that the rest of the group let us do as little as possible. We had a section that you had to crawl through and a section with a chain saw running. We had slimy things that you had to walk through. You had to be careful there, after all, we were in a barn and you never knew what you might step in. I played two parts in the barn. I ran the chain saw on one side and then I would run around to the other side and do my wicked witch scream. I scared lots of people but that wasn’t the scariest part…

Seens From The Recliner

The recent downward turn on the old thermometer has changed one of my daily routines. I've mentioned before that I like to sit out on the porch with the cat and watch things happen. Well, it has been about 30 degrees the past few mornings so I decided to move my viewing to the indoors. I have my recliner situated in just the right spot to see out the window that overlooks out onto the porch and then on out to my little garden with the dead flowers. I was watching the Jerry Springer show on television and listening to Howard Stern on the satellite radio while I was checking voice mails on my cell and emails on my laptop when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I looked up in time to see a herd of deer go bouncing across the back yard of the vacant house next door. There must have been at least a dozen of them and I was glad that they made it across the busy road out front without getting whacked. I'm sure you've seen it; very messy. This sighting was very rare; after all, I live very close to the center of town. However, I have had sightings of a single doe grazing in the back yard of the banker that lives on the other side of me. I have also seen foxes, raccoons, lots of opossums, nasty squirrels and an occasional UARP which means unidentifiable animal running past while enjoying the peace and quietness of my favorite activity. Occasionally, I'll even get dive bombed by an angry blue jay. But, a herd of deer, that's a new one for me. It's a true story, I seen it while sitting in my own recliner.

The Scare Mare

I always enjoyed going to haunted houses and Halloween carnivals. Shoot, I wouldn't mind going trick-or-treating if they wouldn't think I needed to be committed or something. This time of year brings back an especially fond memory of visiting my first haunted house when I was in about the seventh grade. Of course, back in the day, the only way we were allowed to go anywhere like that was with the church youth group. I had just become old enough to go with my brother and sister to all of the fun activities and this visit to the Scare Mare in southern Ohio was my first chance to prove that I was all grown up. Church was all about getting everyone involved, so, I invited all of my neighbors to go along. There were several kids that were my age and we were having a really good time. We were standing in line behind my sister and her friends, and, I'm sure she would say that we were pestering her to death. I remember it being very cold and waiting for what seemed like hours before we were close to the door. Somehow, my sister got separated from her group and was forced into going in her kid sister's group. And we were glad she did. What sticks out more in my mind than anything was The Zebra Room. It was painted in black and white stripes and had a pulsating strobe light that made it nearly impossible to see. Nothing happened until this Merlin-looking character suddenly appeared from the wall and had blood drooling down the side of his face. He was headed straight for me; I screamed and jumped on my sister's back. Unfortunately, so did everyone else and my sister now had three or four screaming and crying adolescents on her back. Thankfully, we moved onto the next areas and had people jumping out at us and folks pretending to chop up body parts. It was a little gory and gross. Our dispositions were improving some until it came to the slide. You couldn't go back and there wasn't any stairs; you had to slide down about thirty feet into total darkness. Every one of us balked at going down that slide. My sister was tired of waiting and down she went into the blackness. I heard a muffled scream and a thump and that was it. People behind us were beginning to bunch up and we were getting a little upset. I went down the slide and was met with strong hands helping me up. Nobody was tying to scare you at that point; but, my friends didn't know that. All of them eventually slid down the slide and all behaved except the very last one. My young friend came down that slide kicking, screaming and slugging at anything he could reach. He landed a punch on the guy that was helping him up and ran straight to my sister and hid under her coat. He was scared to death and was crying like a new born baby. Thankfully, the slide was at the end of the haunted tour and we were back outside in just a few moments. My friend finally recovered enough to peek out from under my sister's coat and looked around at all of us somewhat embarrassed. Nobody said anything because we had all been scared at one point or another. My sister got caught up with her friends who remarked about her going through The Scare Mare with a bunch of kids. They were all in the tenth grade and hadn't been scared at all. My sister looked over at her friends and said this: I was surprised, my sister and her friends weren't scared at all. We had a really good time. Isn't that the truth? After all, that's what sisters do!

Scared Silly

Due to a scheduling conflict I missed a visit with my sister and my niece. I had already made plans to go away for the weekend with one of my friends and check out the fall festivals in the area. By the time I got to the cabin that we had rented for the weekend my nerves were a little shot. It seems that the owners of the cabin neglected to mention that a four-wheel drive was recommended to get to the top of the mountain where the rental was located. I'll have to say that I'm mighty proud of that mustang because she went places that no mustang should have to even think about going. Anyhow, once we explored everything and got settled into to the cabin my friend looked over at me and said "I'm bored". I was too, so, we decided to venture back down the mountain and see if we couldn't find a haunted house or something. We were driving around when we noticed a sign for a haunted corn maze. Cool! You can get lost and scared at the same time. We paid our entrance fee and strode over to get into line with the others waiting to go through the maze. I think it must have been drop your eighth grader off at the haunted maze night or something. They were everywhere. They were giggling, texting, yelling, running, hollering, screaming, squirming, talking, and boasting about anything and everything. The workers at the entrance would let a few people go about every two minutes into the haunted maze. You could hear a loud horn blast, people screaming in terror, a chainsaw running and the yelped cries of dozens of teenagers as they navigated the haunted corn maze. The group of kids directly in front of us were extremely animated. They were excited and having a good time. My friend was a little nervous and apprehensive about what was going on but I remained calm. I worked in a haunted house once so I knew alot of the tricks. It was finally our turn to go through the maze and after a walk down a dark road beside a creek we turned into the maze. We had to wade through the entrance because it was very muddy from the previous night's rain. In fact, we sunk so much that the mud went over the tops of our tennis shoes; not a good start. As I stopped to examine the bottom of my shoes I heard a loud "Boo". My friend jumped about three feet in the air and landed somewhere on my back. Down we went, straight back into the mud. We were covered in mud. The goblin helped us up and told us to get moving; more ghoulish delights were waiting ahead. We ventured ahead in our muddy wet jeans and mud caked tennis shoes and were having a really good time. We rounded a curve and were met by about four teenagers frozen in complete and utter fear. "Grownups", they yelled. "Can we go with you? I'm so scared I think I peed my pants," one said. "I don't think I can go any farther without an adult", another said. For the next twenty minutes I was grabbed, stepped on, pulled at, surrounded by and totally engulfed by four terrified teenagers and one trembling adult. I was battered and bruised and was having the time of my life. I was covered in mud and had wet muddy socks. We made our way back out to the waiting area where the remnants of a bonfire once raged. My friend and I decided that we would stop and get a hot dog before leaving and had just sat down when a large group of teenagers walked past describing how they had found a couple of adults to go through the maze with. They noticed us sitting there, gave us a wave and as they were walking away said this: I hope I'm that much fun when I get to be that old.

All Dried Up

I really dislike this time of year. All of the leaves are almost off the trees and everything looks dried up and dead. That’s how the skin on my leg looks anyway. It’s usually about the last week of October when the first cold front of the season will push its way into the Deep South. (The front gave me a serious sinus headache) I have an electric heater that I plug in that will knock the chill off in my living room and I have been using that the last few days. I have a furnace that I try not to turn on until it is absolutely necessary. It is powered by propane and I have a 450 gallon tank. For those of you in the city that means that I don’t have gas lines running into my house from a local gas provider. If you want propane you order it in 100 gallon increments. At $2.75 a gallon it can be quite expensive. As my dad used to say, “Put on a sweater and don’t touch the thermostat.” Anyhow, another strange thing happens this time of year. Whenever I turn on the furnace all of the moisture in my skin goes straight out the window. It gets very dry and flaky and becomes very painful. It itches too. I decided that the next time that I went to the doctor I would ask about getting a prescription to help clear up this problem. I had an appointment to get my flu shot (which I recommend everyone gets) and asked the doc about my problem. Her response: Put some cream on it and don’t touch the thermostat. If you get cold, put on a sweater or something. Get yourself a humidifier.

A Trip To The Airport

I was very excited that I got to make a trip to the airport the other day. I don’t live near one of those smaller type airports that lets you park right beside the front door. You wave at the security guard standing outside because their child rides to soccer practice every Wednesday with your youngest child; you know each other. You walk into the terminal and it takes you fifteen minutes to reach the ticket counter because you’ve run into about half of the people that you graduated with. The security guard outside the metal detectors gives you a high five and asks how your folks are doing. I think you get the picture. My airport is nothing like that. My airport is bigger than your town. There are six concourses and they are 300M apart according to the posted signs. If you are feeling energetic you might want to walk to your destination. I had to go to the farthest concourse which according to the posted signs was over a mile away. If you add in the half mile walk from the economy parking garage and the walk through the terminal it all adds up to quite a distance. I was taking the train. Or, maybe not. I was getting ready to board the train that had just dropped off a bunch of passengers when an announcement came over the loudspeaker that the train was having technical difficulties; it was going to take at least thirty minutes to fix the problem. Suddenly, there was a loud groan and several muffled curse words as the entire hoard of passengers made a left face and started walking towards the next concourse. It was like the parting of the Red Sea; individuals who were walking towards the baggage claim area were quickly swallowed up by this mass of humanity snaking its way through the underbelly of Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. I had somewhere to be, so, after a slight hesitation I started walking too. I fell into step along side an elderly woman who I thought I might be able to keep pace with. She looked over at me and asked where I was headed. I told her I was going to Concourse E and she said me too. Every thing was going smoothly until I saw her glance down at her watch. I heard her mumbling to herself and then she looked over at me and this is what she said. “According to the sign it’s going to be over a mile by the time we get there. I walk a 12 minute mile every morning; this should be a piece of cake. Let’s go!! Uhh, I think I need to use the ladies room, don’t wait on me; I’ll catch up to you.