AAAAAAAAAAAH!
This chapter has the same title as the first chapter. But the stories in the first chapter are meant to scare you. The ones in this chapter are meant to make you laugh.
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A widow lived alone on the top floor of an apartment house. One morning her telephone rang.
“Hello,” she said.
“This is the viper,” a man said. “I’m coming up.” “Somebody is fooling around,” she thought, and hung up.
A half-hour later the telephone rang again. It was the same man. “It’s the viper,” he said. “I’ll be up soon.”
The widow didn’t know what to think, but she was getting frightened. Once more the telephone rang. Again it was the viper.
“I’m coming up now,” he said.
She quickly called the police. They said they would be right over. When the doorbell rang, she sighed with relief. “They are here!” she thought.
But when she opened the door, there stood a little old man with a bucket and a cloth. “I am the viper,” he said. “I vish to vash and vipe the vindows.”
THE ATTIC
A man named Rupert lived with his dog in a house deep in the woods.
Rupert was a hunter and a trapper. The dog was a big German shepherd named Sam. Rupert had raised Sam from a pup.
Almost every morning Rupert went hunting, and Sam stayed behind and guarded the house. One morning, as Rupert was checking his traps, he got
the feeling that something was wrong at home.
He hurried back as fast as he could, but when he got there he found that Sam was missing. He searched the house and the woods nearby, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. He called and he called, but the dog did
not answer. For days Rupert looked for Sam, but he could find no trace of him.
Finally he gave up and went back to his work. But one morning he heard something moving in the attic. He picked up his gun. Then he thought, “I’d better be quiet about this.”
So he took off his boots. And in his bare feet he began to climb the attic stairs. He slowly took one step-then another-then another, until at last he reached the attic door.
He stood outside listening, but he didn’t hear a thing. Then he opened the door, and-
“AAAAAAAAAAAH!”
(At this point, the storyteller stops, as if he has finished.
Then usually somebody will ask, “Why did Rupert scream?”
The storyteller replies, “You’d scream too if you stepped on a nail in your bare feet.”)
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THE !SLITHER Y-DEE
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He ate all the others, But he didn’t eat me.
The slithery-dee,
He came out of the sea;
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AARON KELLY’S BONES
Aaron Kelly was dead. They bought him a coffin and had a funeral and buried him.
But that night he got out of his coffin, and he came home. His family was sitting around the fire when he walked in.
He sat down next to his widow, and he said, “What’s going on? You all act like somebody died. Who’s dead?”
His widow said, “You are.”
“I don’t feel dead,” he said. “I feel fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” his widow said. “You look dead. You’d better get back to the grave where you belong.” “I’m not going back to the grave until I feel dead,” he said.
Since Aaron wouldn’t go back, his widow couldn’t collect his life insurance. Without that, she couldn’t pay for the coffin. And the undertaker said he would take it back.
Aaron didn’t care. He just sat by the fire rocking in a chair and warming his hands and feet. But his joints were dry and his back was stiff, and every time he moved, he creaked and cracked.
One night the best fiddler in town came to court the widow. Since Aaron was dead, the fiddler wanted to marry her. The two of them sat on one side of the fire, and Aaron sat on the other side, creaking and cracking.
“How long do we have to put up with this dead corpse?” the widow asked.
“Something must be done,” the fiddler said.
“This isn’t very jolly,” Aaron said. “Let’s dance!”
The fiddler got out his fiddle and began to play. Aaron stretched himself, shook himself, got up, took a step or two, and began to dance.
With his old bones rattling, and his yellow teeth snap- ping, and his bald head wagging, and his arms flip-flop-ping–around and around he went.
With his long legs clicking, and his kneebones knocking, he skipped and pranced around the room. How that dead man danced! But pretty soon a
bone worked loose and fell to the floor. “Look at that!” said the fiddler. “Play faster!” said the widow.
The fiddler played faster.
Crickety-crack, down and back, the dead man went hopping, and his dry bones kept dropping-this way, that way, the pieces just kept popping.
“Play, man! Play!” cried the widow.
The fiddler fiddled, and dead Aaron danced. Then Aaron fell apart, collapsed into a pile of bones-all except his bald headbone that grinned at the fiddler, cracked its teeth and kept dancing.
“Look at that!” groaned the fiddler. “Play louder!” cried the widow.
“Ho, ho!” said the headbone. “Ain’t we having fun!”
The fiddler couldn’t stand it. “Widow,” he said. “I’m going home,” and he never came back.
The family gathered up Aaron’s bones and put them back in the coffin.
They mixed them up so he couldn’t fit them together. After that, Aaron stayed in his grave.
But his widow never did get married again. Aaron had seen to that.
WAIT TILL MARTIN COMES
An old man was out for a walk. When a storm came up, he looked for a place to take shelter. Soon he came to an old house. He ran up on the porch and knocked on the door, but nobody answered.
By now rain was pouring down, thunder was booming, and lightning
was flashing. So he tried the door. When he found it was unlocked, he went inside.
Except for a pile of wooden boxes, the house was empty. He broke up
some of the boxes and made a fire with them. Then he sat down in front of the fire and dried himself. It was so warm and cozy that he fell asleep.
When he woke up a black cat was sitting near the fire. It stared at him for a while. Then it purred. “That’s a nice cat,” he thought, and he dozed off again.
When he opened his eyes, there was a second cat in the room. But this one was as big as a wolf. It looked at him very closely, and it asked, ”Shall we do it now?”
”No,” said the other cat. ”Let’s wait till Martin comes.”
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“1 must be dreaming,” thought the old man. He closed his eyes again. Then he took another look. But now there was a third cat in the room, and this one was as big as a tiger. It looked the old man over, and it asked, ”Shall we do it now?”
”No,” said the others. ”Let’s wait till Martin comes.”
The old man jumped up, jumped out the window and started running. ”When Martin comes, you tell him I couldn’t wait,” he called.
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A businessman arrived at a hotel late one night and asked for a room.
The room clerk told him the hotel was all filled up. ”There is only one empty room,” he said. ”But we don’t rent that one because it is hattnted.”
“I’ll take it,” said the businessman ”1 don’t believe in ghosts.”
The man went up to the room. He unpacked his things, and he went to bed. As soon as he did, a ghost came out of the closet. Its fingers were bleeding, and it was moaning, “Bloody fingers! Bloody fingers!” When the man saw the ghost, he grabbed his things and ran.
The next night a woman arrived very late. Again, all the rooms were taken except the haunted room.
“1’11 sleep there,” she said. ”I’m not afraid of ghosts.”
As soon as she got into bed, the ghost came out of the closet. lts fingers still were bleeding. It still was moan- ing, ”Bloody fingers! Bloody fingers!” And the woman took one look and ran.
A week later another guest arrived very late. He also took the haunted room.
After he unpacked, he got out his guitar and he began to play. Soon the ghost appeared. As before, its fingers were bleeding, and it was moaning, ”Bloody fingers! Bloody fingers! The man paid no attention. He just kept strumming his guitar. But the ghost kept moaning, and its fingers kept bleeding.
Finally, the guitar player looked up. ”Cool it, man!” he said. ”Get yourself a Band-Aid.”
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