jack_babalon: (Default)
So i'm taking my trash out to the dumpster in the back, barefoot, bare chested and the smoke curling up from a cigarette stuck in the right corner of my mouth has forced me to give a Popeye one eyed wince.

It's pure Jackal Lantern weather out here. The wind whispering secrets through the trees weeping leaves. A fat, but not quite full, moon floats low on a bank of silver clouds. The air's almost crisp enough now for the sleeping jackets that have been hibernating all summer long in our closets. The first Halloween decorations have been scotchtaped to the windows I pass along the narrow alley between the two houses and... well... apparently a Coven of Cats have gathered in my backyard almost two hours shy of midnight.
Read more... )

jack_babalon: (Default)
"So?" I open the question up between us as casually as possible, as if a matter of fact tone could frame the situation into a more comprehensible set of terms. In actuality it just seems to underscore the absurdity of my dilema.

Spring Heeled Bruce, my landlord, stands there poking the muttering old lady in my alcove intermittentally with the end of a broom. Finally my question, or at least the sound of it, has finally drifted into his sphere of consciousness and he looks up at me with a startled glance. I'm sipping cold coffee from a dirty mug, leaning in the doorway to what was once my room but has somehow been replaced with the set of a Marx Brothers film. I repeat the word to him. Slower.:"So?"

Spring Heeled Bruce hands the broom to one of the three hispanic day laborers he bought along for muscle, motions for him to continue making the jabbing gesture at the muttering old lady and turns to me.

"Wellll.. it's a Witch all right."

"Come again?"

"Oh yeahhhh... you'll find that a lot of these old places get them... especially in the attics or basement."


"Uh-huh." he pulls his glasses off and starts polishing them on his shirt sleeve, he squints at me like i'm a hundred miles away and continues in a nasal monotone "It's a well documented fact that General Sherman, after his victory in the Battle of Atlanta, ordered the evacuation of the city before he had it burnt to the ground..."

Spring Heeled Bruce is interupted by a sudden wail of pain. He pops his specs back on and we both look inside to see that one of the day laborers has irked the Human Faced Rat, who is currently dangling from the laborers ass hanging on with only his teeth, and is shouting obscenities bilingually. While the laborer is appropiately freaking out the other two workers try to assist him by beating the rat off his ass. They keep missing and succeed in only knocking my book shelf over or accidently whacking their coworker in the nuts.

Grannie Spook, meanwhile, continues her motionless vigil in my alcove chant-drooling
"Chthulu Ftgan" over and over in a hoarse whisper. Read more... )
jack_babalon: (Default)
I was pulled out of a dead sleep by the sound of someone screaming next to me. I rolled out of bed immediately, snagged the bottle of Jamesons (or "Bedtime Juice" as Grandma always called it) right off the nightstand, holding it by the neck I smashed it against the wall and began waving the jagged remains menacingly at the shadows as I growled out the words: "Ok, who wants Daddy to tuck them in?" Dare you read on dear reader, DARE YOU!?!? )


jack_babalon: (Default)

September 2016

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