That Night at Grandpa's (And Other Scary Stories)

That Night at Grandpa's

I stood on the back porch with my back against the door staring at Orion's Belt. The crisp spring air was just what I needed. An article in the local newspaper about a size 15 boot wearing crazed man attacking people on the streets made me glad to be in the country on my in-law's farm. However, a combination of the fast food I ate for lunch, the long journey to Ohio, and the tomato juice I drank for supper, caused problems for my stomach and had me up late. Combined with my father-in-law's farmhouse being stoked too hot, I thought standing outside seemed a better option.

Maybe not.

The noises on a farm can be quite entertaining ... in the daylight.

Now I wasn't so sure.

The lowing, baaing, and whinnies made the animals cute ... when you could see them. Now those sounds echoed in the darkness amplifying questions. With each sound to my left came a shadow to my right. Then they flip-flopped. I looked to the heavens. If only Orion could give me some more light or loan me the knife in his belt.

Each sound caused my imagination to run wild. I swore the sounds were getting closer. I laughed inside a little at how childish I was being. I wasn't unfamiliar with farms ... or being a scaredy-cat. My wife had shown me the best places to hide on her homestead during spontaneous hide-and-seek jaunts only she knew about. Without a moment's notice, she would jump out scaring the pudding out of me. That is how she rolled and why I packed extra briefs.

The sounds were getting closer.

I stared at the ground right in front of my feet being sure not to make any sudden movements. With one hand, I slowly reached into my pocket and with the other walked my fingers behind me for the door handle. I found my cell phone, but not the door handle. I gasped. I was pretty sure there had been a door handle.

I smiled as I slid my cell phone from my pocket, just in time to see something nosing its way around the flowerpot toward me. As it sniffed closer, I finally found the button to turn my cell phone into a flashlight.

It did not work.

I was holding it wrong.

It still did not work.

My finger was in the way.

There.

It was just Tommy, the coal black farm cat. As I knelt to scoop up the feline, I noticed two things: a hulking man broke from the darkness and came straight toward me. I saw his breath disappearing over his shoulder. I heard his feet that in three steps would be upon me. Something metal in his hand caught the moonlight. Tears came to my eyes.

That might have been caused by the second thing I noticed: the white stripe on Tommy's back.

Thanks for nothing, Orion!

Thank God for mother-in laws. The tomato juice came in good use after all ... for both of us. How was I supposed to know my father-in-law had been checking on the mare that had given birth to a lovely filly that night. That explained the noises I had head.

My father-in-law, Don, sat there in the tub next to me. "Now tell me this again," he said shaking his head. "You say you cocked it ... like a shotgun?"

We laughed 'til we cried.

I wiped my eyes with my reddened fingers enough to tell the rest of the story. I held the Tommy imposter in my hands like a readied gun. I raised it like a wobbling football under my right arm. I found a back leg nicely placed in my left hand. When the hulk reached for me, I could only think of one thing.

I made a chick-kick shotgun sound with my mouth as I pumped the black and white and she was loaded. Much to my surprise, a steady stream of ammo was produced.

Poor thing.

The hulk's hand knocked the Tommy gun from my clutches. I know now that is what Don's intentions were the whole time. The rest is all a little fuzzy to me.

"And what was it you shouted?" he taunted.

I don't know ... I really don't know where that came from.

I sighed and looked down at the soup I was in and almost whispered it.

"Handle this."

Every time we visit my in-laws, chairs are taken, stories are shared, but none more enjoyed than ... anyway ... my six-year-old says it best, "Hey daddy. What's black and white and red all over?"

I still wonder about that missing door handle.

Little did I know a hulk of a man with treacherous plans hid in the dark that night. He had removed the door handle in hopes of eliminating a possible escape from his prey. We found it the next day behind one of the large, round hay bales while playing hide-and-seek ... along with some fresh size 15 boot prints.