Hellzapoppin’

 

By Tiber 

My brother, Duncan, was so excited. He said he grabbed all of his ghost-hunting equipment in the middle of the night because he thought he heard one of our ghosts tap-dancing.

I would have had doubts right there. If ghosts do dance, and I sincerely hope that ours do, wouldn’t they still be stuck having to do something slower, like a waltz or at best, maybe a tango through the wall?

I was right, of course. The sound Duncan heard was just Dad, drinking beer and making popcorn in the upstairs kitchen at 3AM so Mom wouldn’t catch him.

Ever since Dad mistook Mom’s fashion designer friend for the race-car driver and then forced him to speed around the property, causing the poor guy to crash into the greenhouse, Dad has been hiding in his room.

Sorry, I mean, “recovering” in his room, quietly and bravely, all on his own.

Duncan said Dad clearly was fine, even after the accident.

Of course, if Mom’s fashion designer friend now becomes too agitated to sketch clothing, Duncan may get his ghost after all. It will be Dad!

Courteous and gentle though she may usually be, we all know that occasionally there are other sounds in the night and those are the ones of Mom expertly and efficiently plotting away on how to kill her husband.

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