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The smell of burning fog juice

A long time ago, your old pal Spooky did some spooking at the Culbertson Mansion haunted house in New Albany. I still have my long-sleeved “Staff” T-shirt that I unpack every Fall and proudly wear. Of course, since marriage obviously agrees with me, that shirt is getting a little stretched out. (That’s why we joined the Y last week)

Anyway, I’ve done my time in a 90-degree fog-filled room under the unremitting, brain-frying flash of a strobe light, throat raw, waiting for the next group of sheep to come shuffling through. Waiting. Sitting. Makeup stinging my eyes. Booming soundtrack looping over and over. Drone … drone … drone … hiss … buzz …

Peppered throughout the long stretches of intense boredom, however, came those short instances of unadulterated fun when the marks came along and we made them jump out of their skins. That makes up for a lot of sore throats and stiff joints. And besides, getting to go behind the scenes of any haunted house is just joy.

It’s been a long time, and I’ve missed the feeling of involvement if not the smell of burning fog juice. Funny how these things work out. Completely separate events have led to my happy entanglement in two different haunts this year. God’s idea for getting me out to meet new and interesting people, I guess.

In case you’re wondering, click any of the “gallery” pictures for a larger version and more info. Like, “what the heck is that skeleton soda-jerk guy all about?”

Hay dogs in a corn field

“Sellersburg Celebrates” is one of the many carnivals that pop up in late summer and early fall around these parts. This hay field gathering of succulent fair-food vendors was held over the weekend, and Saturday did not disappoint as it was, by tradition, hotter than hell.

Does Wisconsin ever see 95 degrees? Mrs Spookyblue says fuggedaboudit. Anyway, the corndogs were excellent.

When we’ve all gone off to bed

Note the motivational poster of a PumpkinRot monster
Is that a bat?
Usually something interesting sitting on the workbench
The soft electric glow of the 7-Up clock keeps utter blackness from swallowing the quiet shop. Spiders whisper back and forth, high in their corners, discussing the state of the hunt behind the scrap wood bin.

Fresh sawdust and drying paper mache perfume the air, circulated by the always present whir of the floor fan beside the workbench.

It’s after hours at Snug Harbor, when all the humans have gone off to bed and other residents stretch and yawn, then shamble off to their respective haunts – behind this box, and around the corner of that doorway.

The Skeleton Crew begins its shift.

I figured since Rot was busy working in his shop today, and because he’s said entirely too many nice things about me lately, I’d pick up some of the slack and offer this…

There isn’t a more sincere haunter on the face of the planet than Pumpkin Rot. If he planted a pumpkin patch, not only would the Great Pumpkin show up, but he’d offer the guy a job. Spend a little time (okay, a lot of time) reading his blog and tell me I’m wrong. If I could pick anyone in the world I could have as a nextdoor neighbor, it would be him.

Okay, okay. Enough with the love-fest. Now back to work. :)


First Flight

Early Witch Flying Contraption
Early witch flying contraption
For Uncle Bob who taught me first.  Thank you.  Now soar.