Evil Comes To The Suburbs…

When it was just my wife, the 2 boys and myself, we decided to get our first family dog. We went to The Humane Society, and found a puppy. It was a Staffordshire Terrier-Hound Of Hell mix. We took it home, proud that we had rescued a dog from certain doom. We named him Rocky, but as he was the third dog that I had owned named Rocky, he was affectionately referred to as Rocky lll. We had the dog house broken very quickly, and it had become a member of the family.

One evening, we all went out, leaving the dog alone. We were gone 2-3 hours, and returned to find our home torn to pieces. Window coverings had been bitten off and chewed up, sections of laminate flooring had been lifted in the kitchen, and the bag of dog food had been spilled all across the kitchen floor.

“What happened here?”, my wife asked.

“Well”, I said, “either our house was broken into by an interior decorator who hated our decor, or this dog is possessed!”

“You think that little dog did all of this?”, she asked, as the dog gagged, and threw up pieces of forest green Venetian blinds all over the floor.

“Um, yes, I do.”, I replied.

My father, who had been training dogs for most of his life suggested we purchase a cage, and when we go out, lock the dog in the cage. I went to the pet & pet supply store at the local mall, and purchased the cage. We trained the dog to spend time in it when we were home, and he was fine. He would simply lay down, and go to sleep.

Several days later, we went out again. I secured the dog in the cage, and left him with a few toys, and a bowl of water. Two hours later, after a Tex-Mex extravaganza at Lonestar, we returned to find the dog out of the cage, with the bowl of water turned upside down on the floor. There was a trail of dog food across the kitchen and into the living room. There were chunks of wood missing from the frame of the door on the main floor bathroom, and deep scratches on the back door, leading to the driveway.

“Oh, my God.”, my wife said, putting her hands over her mouth.

“This is crazy.”, I said, looking at the dog in disbelief. I examine the cage and it seemed secure enough, but somehow this dog had figured out how to escape. The following day, I ventured out to the pet supply company to return the cage that obviously didn’t work for my dog. I explained the circumstances of my returning the cage, and it was suggested that I try a breeder’s cage which, I was told, was escape proof.  I took the new cage home, and introduced it to the dog.

“Do you think this one will work?”, my wife asked.

“Not even Houdini could get out of this cage.”, I informed her. “If it happens again, he’s gone!”, I added.

For several days we watched the dog in the cage. He was content, and not once did he try to break out. We would go out, and walk to the back of the house, peering in through the living room window. The dog seemed to know we were there, turning around and looking back at us. “How does he know we’re here?”, my wife asked.

“I don’t know.”, I told her. “But this is not a normal dog!”

Believing that the cage was secure, we again went out, leaving the dog in his cage, with toys and water. As we returned home, we all sat in silence, deep in our own personal thoughts about the dog.

I parked on the driveway, and we entered the house through the door leading into the kitchen, and so far nothing  seemed amiss. We walked down the hallway, into the living room, and found the door to the cage still locked, and the dog laying on the couch. My wife shrieked.  I went upstairs to the bedroom, and found trails of shredded linen on the floor. In one of the bedrooms, the blinds had been pulled down from their frame, and several planks of the hardwood floor had been ripped up and chewed. When I returned downstairs, my wife was shaking.

“I want him out now!”, she stated, rather sternly. “This is very creepy, and I don’t get a good feeling about this.”

“I’m way ahead of you.”, I said, as I picked up the dog and walked towards the door. “One of us will be coming back, I hope.”, I responded.

“Well,”, she said, “I’m not sure which one is a bigger pain in the ass.”

I dropped the dog off at The Humane Society, and returned home. As we laid awake in bed, my wife kept hearing the sound of a dog whimpering, and growling. “Did you hear that?”, she asked.

“I didn’t hear anything.”, I told her.

“What if its the the house that’s possessed”, she asked, “and not the dog?”

“Well”, I said, “if that’s the case, I won’t be the one coming back.”

 

 

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The Secret Life Of Ghosts

So, as I have mentioned, my wife has the ability to see ghosts moving about the house. Not just our current home, but everywhere we have lived. These are not ordinary spirits. They do not exist in any particular place, but rather follow us around, from house to house. My wife reminds me that they are with us to ghost13watch over us. I would prefer a security system, and a very large dog, but it seems, I have ghosts.

Many years ago, my wife went through a period where these visitors were frequently in our home. It was an almost daily event. She said that she could smell bread baking. She said that she heard glasses clinking. On more than one occasion she said she heard sounds, like muted laughter, coming from the family room. Much to my chagrin, I had to go and check. I heard nothing. I saw nothing. But I stayed downstairs for a while, appearing to be thoroughly investigated the apparent haunting of my home.

Upon my safe return, my wife demanded to know what I found on my ghost11harrowing adventure. I told her I had neither seen or heard anything. She insisted that I was not telling her the truth. She believed that I had witnessed some paranormal event, and was either too frightened to talk about it, or I was unsure what I had seen. After several more demands, I relented, and, trying not to upset her, I told her what I had seen that fateful night in our family room.

I informed her that I had seen three spirits, one of whom I am certain was her father. I did not recognize the other two men. They were sitting at a table, playing cards. I thought it was poker, but I couldn’t be certain. They were drinking beer out of our shot glasses, and seemed to be quite inebriated. So ghost12much so, that one of the men kept falling off of his chair, and this made the other two laugh hysterically. They had bowls of peanuts, and pretzels, which they kept throwing in the air, trying to catch the morsels in their mouths. They missed often, leaving quite a mess on the floor. The television was on, and I they were watching porn. They had re heated and ate the left over pizza, and had left the empty pizza box, and pieces of crust all over the counter. It was horrible, I informed her. Frighteningly horrible. I asked them what they thought they were doing, and they vanished. Just like that. Totally disappeared. Without cleaning up the mess.

My wife sat silent for a moment, seemingly deep in thought, and then turned to me. “You’re an ass.”, she said. “If there’s a mess, I suggest you go and clean it”.

“It wasn’t me”, I told her, “it’s the spirits. What do you think they do when they’re here?”

“I suggest that you just go clean it NOW.”, she said.

I don’t know why, but  she just didn’t believe me. I was never asked to investigate the paranormal again, which is quite upsetting, I mean, I would really like the opportunity to win some of my money back.

 

 

 

 

A Boo Radley Moment

When my wife and I first lived together, we rented a century old farm house just north of the city.. It was a wonderfully exciting house, imagesfilled with creaks and moans, and squeaks and bangs. There was a sudden staircase, leading from the living room to the 2nd floor, and a dumbwaiter that was still functional. . It was old, and, at times, seemed quite eerie.  After a while, we got used to the noises, and accepted the creaking, banging, and moaning as a part of our lives.

One night, my wife was woken by a noise she claimed that she had not heard before. She woke me, and we sat listening to what can best be described as 2 pieces of wood being banged togethers. We suspected that someone had broken in.  I told my wife to call the police.

When the police arrived,  they too heard someone moving around. They believed it was coming from the basement. We all stood in the kitchen, listening intently to the would be thieves, waiting for the police to spring into action.

downloadFinally, it was time. The 2 officers pulled their guns and asked where the basement door was. I led them to it. “Okay”, one of them said, “you lead the way. We’ll be right behind you.” You’re kidding, I thought. What the hell am I doing leading the charge up San Juan Hill?  I looked at my wife in disbelief. “Come on. Let’s go”, he urged. I opened the basement door, and headed down the stairs. Behind me, the 2 police officers had their guns drawn, and we’re using their flashlights to illuminate the darkened cellar. “You’re not going to shoot me in the back”, I said.

“I hope not”, one of them replied.

I moved down the stairs as stealthily as my trembling legs wold permit,  and was amazed at just how creepy this basement was in the dark. In tje dead of night. The wooden rafters seemed almost alive in the shadows. I felt like a character out of ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’, skulking around the Radley house, terrified to find Boo. The noises were much louder now, and the police, still behind me, were moving their flashlights around, looking for any sign of  an intruder. We reached the bottom of the stairs, and the noise seemed to be coming from the log beams that ran across the ceiling. Their flashlights were focused above us now, and there,  partially hidden behind a box nestled in the rafters, they saw something. “It’s a raccoon”, one of them shouted. I looked up, and there was the biggest raccoon I had ever seen.

“Stay back”, one or the officers remarked, “she’s pregnant. “They’re when they’re pregnant.”

“Can you get it out?” I asked.

images-1“Ah, no.”, He answered. “She’s likely to rip your face off”

Well, can you shoot it?”

I was informed that they could not shoot it. The best that I could do was to call animal control in the morning. They would come out, and humanely removed the mutation. In the meanwhile, I was advised to stay far away from this animal. It could be rabid.

They put their guns away and we went upstairs. I thanked them for not shooting me in the back, and they departed, leaving me, and my wife, with one giant, potentially rabid rodent. My wife and I stayed awake all night, making sure the killer raccoon from hell did not make it upstairs to shred our faces. Animal control came in the morning and trapped the masked bastard, ending one scary night in paradise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHE SEES DEAD PEOPLE…

She sees dead people. My wife. Well, not people, but ghosts. Spirits. She always has. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I have seen her looking at something that I swear wasn’t there. Staring in wonder, gb3she has, on occasion, attempted to communicate with these other world entities. Pretty freakin’ weird, I know, but it runs in her family. There was a great aunt who they claim was a witch. No, don’t laugh. Everyone in the family was afraid of her, lest she cast a spell on them. Rumour has it that she put a spell on her husband, and he became catatonic for the last 15 years of his life. People would flock to her for advice and assistance. A curse on this person, a pox on that person. It was a sight to behold!! I met her twice, and she scared the hell out of me.

These spirits, as my wife sees it, come to let her know all is gb2well. I would much prefer a postcard, however she eagerly waits their appearance. She feels their presence, in a very deep, spiritual way. A connection she calls it. They do not speak to her. I am glad for that! She says that the spirits let her know that all is well through their energy. Still, I find it all a little disconcerting. I try to ignore her “something’s here”, or “they’re here again” opening sentences that announce the start of the visits. They do not visit me, for which I am grateful, but my wife says that they know I am there, and watch over me as well. So far, there have been no disturbing events: Tableware does not fly through the air, chairs do not move, and the lights do not flicker off and on.

I hope that my wife is right. I hope these visitors are only here to confirm that we are on the right path. But what if she is wrong? What if they are lying? What if they are really here to push us in the wrong direction? Not to worry, my wife advises, one of the spirits is her father, who would never harm her. I hope that he feels the same way about me, I mean, I have been doing his daughter for years and years. It would piss me off.

There are times when I think this is all in her head, you know, a little trip on the crazy train, but I have to believe that she feels what she says she feels. For now. In the meantime, I don’t sleep. I lay awake at night waiting for them to gbcome. I wonder if I should do something, like put out snacks, make tea, or put up streamers. Just in case she is right. I do not see dead people, nor do I want to. Hearing about things flying around my home in the dead of night is unsettling. But, if needed, I think I know who to call!