TAPS should probably hire me

I should probably preface this post by stating that I have an overactive imagination.  An extremely overactive one.   The kind that dreams up things like gorilloceros, and beds made of clouds and rainbows.  That being said, I’m about 99.99% certain my house is haunted.  I have investigated and debunked and have come to the expert conclusion my house, is indeed, HAUNTED.

How did I come to this expert conclusion? You ask.

Fear not.  I have thoughtfully provided the evidence below.

Exhibit A  – “The Bee”

Sunday, Mbrotha was off saving the world, one chimney at a time.  Because I like him a bit and think he should stay around a while, I decided to clean up our dining room in preparation for Thanksgiving Day festivities (he’ll be doing all the cooking, because we decided that we actually want to eat on that day and if left to my own devices we’d end up with grilled cheese and funfetti cupcakes.  Like the Pilgrims ate.).   I vacuumed, I dusted (no, that’s a lie, I didn’t dust…yet) and I noticed that my Christmas cactus and my orchids looked thirsty.  I left the dining room for all of thirty seconds.  When I returned…THIS:

Motheringfucking Bee.

A motherfucking BEE.  In November.  Inside my house.  On my window.  ON. THE. INSIDE.  As I don’t carry a beehive in my backpocket, I’m utterly perplexed as to how this little fellow came to be upon my window.  Nonetheless, I left him as is (Mbrotha takes care of the scary things.  Like spiders, and insects with stabby needles in their butts.  And lizards on the ceiling.  You know, the usual.) and continued cleaning.  I had already vacuumed the entire floor and started using the wand to suck up the elephant sized tumbleweeds my dogs feel it necessary to shed on a daily basis.  And stumbled upon this:

Exhibit B – “The Bee Part Deux”

Motherfucking dead Bee.

A dead BEE.  Naturally I thought the fellow from the window had somehow managed to make his way across the room without me noticing and expired mid-flight, but NO.  There he was living his merry old bee life upon the window.  This was a second bee, dead as a doornail, upon the floor.  Which I had vacuumed in it’s entirety just minutes before.  I’ve seen the Amityville Horror.  Bees just don’t appear in your house without a damn good reason.  Like it’s haunted by a hell beast, for instance.

Maybe you’re not convinced.  Well how about this??

Exhibit C – “The Basement Door…OR…The Gates to Hell??”

 

Maybe this looks like just a door.  And it is.  Or is it?  This is the door to my basement.  And you know what?  I’m pretty sure one of these days I’m going to pass it by to turn off the outside light and I’ll hear a knock and the following conversation will take place:

Knock.

Me:  Who’s there?  What’s that?

Hell beast:  Johnny.

Me:  Johnny who????!!!!

Hell beast:  Oh, you know, just a boy.  But all work and no play makes him a dull one…Do you want that?  Do you want Johnny to be a dull boy? 

For real.  My basement is super scary.  Not in the standard old scary kind of way.  I’m talking the kind of scary where you’re minding your own business doing laundry and you catch a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye and you glance toward the far, darkest corner, where light goes to die.  You glance toward this forsaken corner expecting it to be empty, but no.  No, instead there’s a creepy-ass black-and-white child staring back at you…meowing

That’s the kind of scary I’m talking about.  Take a look again.  Yeah, now you see the hell beast.

Exhibit D – “The Footsteps” 

I don’t go down in the basement at night.  I refuse.  True story.  If Mbrotha needs laundry switched, he accompanies my terrified ass or his laundry does not get done.  During the day though, I have courage.  It still spooks the crap out of me, but I figure I have a reasonable chance of outrunning the scary child/hell beast because we all know monsters are afraid of daylight.  Generally I sing very loudly while I’m down there because I figure if I’m annoying enough, scarychildhellbeast won’t want an eternity with me (thus far, this plan is a success! Go me!).  Sunday, whilst Mbrotha was out doing manly chimney things, I made my way into the basement.  I was going about my merry way, avoiding looking at the forsaken corner, singing “Build Me Up Buttercup” when I heard them.

THE.  FOOTSTEPS.

Naturally I thought Mbrotha had returned.  So I finished up and raced back upstairs, happy to see my hubby.  But you know what, Internet?  Do you know what?

No.  Hubby. 

Nope.  Mbrotha didn’t return home for another four hours.  Are you creeped out?  Because I DEFINITELY am.

So you see, you put four and four together…my house is fucking haunted.  For real.  True story.  Case closed. 

Jay, Grant, Tango, Steve, you might want to hire this girl.

**UPDATE** So Mbrotha tells me today, before I go to post this post the story of how the dogs scared the bejeezus out of him right before I returned home from work.

Exhibit E – “The Mysterious Bang”

Mbrotha tells me he heard a bang today which he believes, but is not one hundred percent positive , that originated from the pellet stove, displayed here:

 

(The pellet stove with a Keeva in front of it.  A Keeva’s not so scary.  Unless dogs spook you.  In that case, I’m sorry.)

All three dogs went ape-shit and tore ass through the house, barking like mad.  He then heard a knock he thought came from the front door.  Do you know what he found though Internet?  No one.  They continued running through the house, barking like mad and Mbrotha could find no evidence to explain what caused the uproar.  But I know, Internet.  It was scarychildhellbeast.  I know it. 

Or maybe  a Keeva:

Heh, heh, heh...fire.

 

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2 Comments to “TAPS should probably hire me”

  1. I knew i!t…your basement scares the crap outta me also–in a “it puts the lotion on its skin” kinda way…good luck, girlfriend :-O

    • Oh. My. God. Diane, I hadn’t looked at it that way. But you’re totally right. Now scarychildhellbeast is going to tell me that instead of meowing. Ah crap. I’m never going down there again.

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