[NSW-Fic] The Haunting

[machievelli]

Those who have read my shorter stuff will have noticed I sometimes get... silly.

 

I found this on my disk and thought, time to get silly once again...

 

The Haunting

 

David Pesch looked across the table at his children, and sighed inwardly. Jennie, the 16 year old, was rocking in her chair, the headphones of her CD player hidden beneath her brown hair. Chris, the 14 year old was watching his sister's gyrations with a little too much interest. Once he'd hit puberty, he had suddenly discovered girls, and didn't see why looking that way at his sister was wrong.

 

Two more people, David thought, that didn't know what family time meant. He looked at the table itself, the food almost bowing the table. Thanksgiving was a fun time for him usually, but this one was special.

 

When he'd gotten into real estate, this house, the old Jenkins place, was the bugaboo of the local agents. The house was beautiful, an almost perfect Victorian, on three acres of land here in Southern California where most settled for less than a half acre. Everyone who saw the house wanted it, but while it had been sold fifteen times in as many years, none of the owners had stayed through an entire year. All had run screaming out, and vowed to never return.

 

Except for us, he almost chortled. The Friday after Thanksgiving would be their first year anniversary, and he could return to the office Monday bearing the honor of having broken the Jenkin's curse. Other sales-people would have to admit that he was the primo agent in the valley!

 

The kitchen door swung, and Ruth, his wife came in, bearing the piece de resistance, A turkey large enough to feed an Ethiopean family for a week. She set it down before her husband, blew a kiss at him, then sashayed to her chair at the foot of the table. Neither of the kids seemed to even notice the grand bird. He sighed, looking toward Ruth, and stood, pulling out the carving set he had bought for this very occasion. With a flourish, he raised the knife, plunging the fork into the breast of the bird.

 

"Hey Fatso! Watch where you're poking!" A shrill voice wailed. He flinched back. The bird was rocking back and forth, and from the hole where the neck had been, stuffing sprayed across the table. He didn't hear Ruth's scream as a head and wattled neck shoved out of the hole, one wing flipping up to wipe stuffing from it's face. If it were a turkey, it was one by drawn by Hieronimus Bosch or concieved by Dante. Red angry eyes glared at him from over a beak that rivaled the knife he dropped.

 

The other wing reached up, snatching the fork out of the breast, then the bird rolled over, garish feathers popping up as it stood on the stumps of it's legs. "Maybe I should poke you with this!" It snarled, waving the fork in the air.

 

David hadn't noticed Ruth's hurried exit from the room, but he beat her to the car.

 

Jennie was rocking, in her head, the screaming lyrics of PunkHead Iron Rock slammed back and forth, ruining brain cells just by their existence. She loved heavy death metal usually, but PHIR had just released this album, with a Thanksgiving song on it (I should carve you up and serve you instead of turkey) and she felt it appropriate to the occasion. Suddenly something warm and gooey smacked her in the face. Her eyes snapped open, and she glared at her brother.

 

She had done everything to discourage Chris' interest in her short of removing the cause of all his problems. How many times had she had to go into his room to retrieve her laundry? Or heard him moaning at night like a yak in labor?

 

The little weasel must be, well, You Know, at the dinner table. She wiped her face, ready to throw it back at him when suddenly she looked at what was on her hand. Chives weren't part of that, were they?

 

Chris was grinning at the white yellow and green mess on his sister's face when suddenly one of the baked potatoes on the platter before him sat up. All of the eyes on the potatoe snapped open. A hand popped out of it's side, and it scooped the butter, sour cream and chives from it's center.

 

"You know, kid, you eat this stuff, and that acne's never going to go away." The potato dropped the mess on the table, then stood on two legs that conveniently popped out of it's, well, bottom. It look like Mr. Potatohead on a really bad face day. "Now you've eaten a number of my relatives, maybe I should eat you in retaliation." The center snapped down, and he saw teeth larger than most tigers possessed. The boy shrieked, and raced from the room.

 

Only Jennie remained, and the potato looked at her askance. She was way too cool for the situation. "Why aren't you beating feet out of here?"

 

"You're an hallucination." The girl retorted. "Maybe you're the Angel Dust Jeff brought to the last concert, or the Acid Monica shared with me, or-"

 

"Who do you think you are? Ebenezer Scrooge?" Another potato leaped to it's feet. Like the first, the eyes of the potato had opened, and the split down it's center bore more teeth than any sober dentist saw in a life time. Jennie only waved her hand as if to shoo them both away.

 

"All right, kiddo, time for drastic measures." The first potato said. It ran across the table, leaped onto Jennie's lap, and stomped on the stop button of the CD player. PHIR died into silence, and as Jennie stared at the player in shock, the potato leaped back up on the table to stand beside the other one. Before she could punch the play button again, the potatoes bowed to each other, then sang;

 

"You say Potay-to, I say Potah-to,

"You say Tomay-to, I say Tomah-to.

Potay-to,! Potah-to!

Tomay-to! Tomah-to!

"Let's call the whole thing off!"

 

Willing to accept many horrors at her age, Cole Porter was too much for her. Jennie ran screaming from the room, her hands pressed tightly over her ears.

 

As the Pesch family cowered in their car, the Thanksgiving feast was being served. Tom carved the ham, passing it out to Spud and Chip, the potatoes. "There you go, guys. Eat hearty., and happy Thanksgiving!"

 

"Thanks old bird." Chip said. He poked the mashed potatoes on his plate with a frown, then looked at Spud. "You know, Spud, I never like mama that much."

 

Spud looked over, seeing where the fork was aimed. "It's like the old joke, bro." He grinned. "Just eat the ham then!"

[Salzella]

gosh. i see what you mean. entertaining read though

[Bee Hoon]

Lol, silly is as silly does:P There's a few minor punctuation mistakes, but doesn't detract from the hilarity:)

[Rev7]

Funny. Made me laugh. :-)