SPOOKY/SCARY

3-26-99

Spooky is
When I came home from work, some weeks ago. As I entered the garage, Wonder Girl had papers strewn all over her worktable. She was scribbling madly and was obviously hard at work.
“Don’t talk to me now! I’m on a roll. There is a baked potato in the oven.” And she bent back to work.
I grabbed a beer from the fridge and was careful not to bump her. I knew what she was going through. Your mind is on your paper. Ideas are flowing and you don’t want to interrupt it.
The dog glanced up at me as I entered the rest house. He had been fed and so dad getting home just wasn’t a big thing. After changing clothes, I started messing around in the kitchen. I ought to get dinner going, but wasn’t sure what to make. Let’s see, what goes with a baked potato.
Fifteen minutes later, everything was set. I invited the dog outside, to play ball and we messed around for a while.
Back inside, Wonder Girl was still in the garage. It was best to leave Wonder Girl alone until she got to a stopping point. I know that I like to be left alone when the ideas are flowing fast and furious.
By six thirty, everything was ready. I had just placed the drinks on the table, when Wonder Girl came in. She gave me a big hug.
“Thanks for letting me finish. I was on a roll and didn’t want to stop.”
“No Problem, I know what it’s like.”
“Thanks again. I think we’ll have some of that chicken sausage and maybe coleslaw, since we have the leftover dressing from last night.” I didn’t answer her, I just moved out of the way so she could see the sausages boiling on the stove. I then opened the fridge and showed her the coleslaw, dressed and ready.
“Oh.” She said when she saw what I had prepared. “Kinda spooky, isn’t it?”

Today, I decided to make chili for dinner. Wonder Girl was outside messing in the garden and the dog was keeping an eye on her. I got all the stuff out and began to fry the meat. Cut up this, dice that, and add it to the pot. A can of this and a can of that, dump them in. I grabbed the can of tomato paste, put the can opener on it and squeezed the handles.
Thick, red stuff spurted out of the can as I puncture the lid, and I froze. A chill went down my spine as the B word came to mind. I stopped and looked at the can. It looked a little old, but I couldn’t tell from the numbers stamped on it. I tossed the can in the garbage and grabbed another. Similar numbers on it and when I punctured the lid, there was an evil hiss. That one joined it’s rotten cousin in the garbage and I grabbed the remaining three can from the cupboard. One had the same markings on it and it went into the trash. The last two cans looked newer and the date code stuff looked different. I took one of the cans and compared it to its five cousins in the hall closet. I knew the closet cousins were just bought two months ago. Thankfully, the numbers matched. I still had trepidation’s, as I opened the can, but there was no red spurt and no evil hiss. Dinner will be made tonight, and we can eat it.

I don’t mind spooky, it really kind of fun; but I can do without scary, always