Frankoween

It happens every year on Halloween. Old Frank sits on the front porch in his old rocking chair and shouts old school obscenities at the freaks in costume. They don’t understand half of what he says, what with the giant dentures that mangled his speech. And it might be viewed as a callous act by the casual observer, but if you could hear the full story, you might understand.

Frank was an old man, even by an old man’s standard. He stood about six foot two, probably in his younger years, but the enemy of time had compressed his stature to a five foot seven inch frame. His stooped figure made the unruly mane of white hair that much more prominent as it cascaded well past his bony shoulders. In the old days, one might have even considered him handsome. He still had clear blue eyes, a perfectly symmetrical face and a strong jaw that remained firm and aggressive. But years of solitude and the grind of work had done its damage.

Frank’s house was perceived as a haunted house by the neighborhood kids. It had all the textbook signs. It rested next to an old cemetery. The grave yard was said by some to house a variety of ghosts and goblins that will only reveal themselves beneath a full moon. He had also painted the windows black and the newly installed Hardiplank siding a burnt orange. It was an odd choice for someone that despised Halloween, but it made sense since Frank was a University of Texas graduate, class of ’40.

The primary reason for the haunted declaration amongst the neighborhood kids was because the house was the scene of a grisly murder/suicide combo of a father and family of four. The Jefferson family was well known in the community. The mother was president of the PTA, the father a member of the local chapter of the Lions Club, the three kids model students and athletes, and the family unit itself a strong presence in the town’s Baptist church. But a visitor to their home one Halloween turned things sour for the Jeffersons. A few neighbors had seen the visitor, presumably a door to door salesman, climb their porch steps that day with an orange suitcase in hand . But no one saw him leave. And it was the following day when they found the bodies strewn across the kitchen. Strangely, the bodies were almost devoid of blood. There was a knife wound in the neck of each of the corpses, and the father was gripping the supposed murder weapon in his own cold hand. The investigation in the case continued for another few years, but the local police finally closed it as a bizarre murder and suicide.

The house began to fall in a state of disrepair over the ensuing years. Then along came grumpy old Frank, who snapped up the house for quite a steal because of its sordid history. Top that off with the bevy of bats that infested Frank’s attic and the black cat he called Bevo that patrolled the yard, and you have yourself a full fledged haunted mansion straight out of a 50’s B-movie!

Frank loved the solitude the house presented. All the stereotypical haunted variables created the perfect formula for being left alone. The whole scenario would be laughable, but as Frank is a bit of a recluse and self conscious to a fault, he dreaded the yearly ritual that brought strange children onto his lawn offering the random trick unless a treat was forthcoming. The only thing Frank hated worse than Halloween were the little brats that celebrated it with such gusto.

Kids showed up dressed in every type of costume imaginable: witches in pointed hats, ghosts in old bed sheets and mummies wrapped in yards of gauze. They would spew forth childish chants to “ward off” Frank’s evil nature and hurl whole pumpkins at the porch while Bevo scampered to safety beneath the house.

But tonight would be different. You see, Frank is a retired chemical engineer. And he had a surprise waiting for these little miscreants of malcontent. He whipped up a concoction, a potion of sorts, which would make the troublemakers flee in terror.

And so as midnight approached, he could hear them rounding the corner of the cemetery. Eerie noises and random cat calls erupted from the small band of teenaged hoodlums.

“Here we come, old man…for the last time, we want a treat, or you get a big ol’ trick! Where are you, you old vampire freak?!” Yet another jab at Frank’s oversized dentures.

“Oh, you’ll get a treat, alright”, said Frank aloud. “Just a little closer.”

The first feet pressed into the dead grass of Frank’s yard. There was the usual crowd of kids that he had seen around the neighborhood, plus a few more older ones and even an adult or two!

“The more the merrier”, Frank quipped.

When the whole crowd neared his porch, the magic began. Frank suddenly jumped to his feet and stood in defiance, facing the gang of costumed hooligans. The crowd stopped, as they had only seen Frank move in years past to hurl pennies at the kids or to rush inside the house amidst a rain of pumpkins. This was something different.

Then he reached to his right and yanked a rope. A rustling in the trees caused the kids to look above them. Buckets lining the tree limbs began to overturn and sheets of liquid poured over the crowd. Shouts of horror went up and the kids began running in all directions. The liquid did not sting or stain; it could have been water, for all they knew. But the STENCH it carried was something that Frank was pretty sure could not be scrubbed from their pores for days on end. A mixture of rotten egg and vomit smells wafted up towards the front porch and tickled Frank’s nostrils as he stood gazing at the mayhem that he caused. In a matter of seconds his lawn was cleared. Frank chuckled and turned for the front door.

“See you next year, you little bastards”, he mumbled as Bevo shot past him through the opening door.

Frank shuffled upstairs. The stairs creaked and groaned as he made his way to the bedroom. He pulled out his black pajamas and matching cape from his orange suitcase and began to get ready for bed. After dropping his dentures in a glass of water he made his way across the room to where the open coffin lay. He climbed in and turned off the lamp. Yellow fangs dropped to his chin as a weary smile spread across his thin lips.

“What a day”, he thought. “I can’t wait for next year!”