4-20-03
What ever happened to four nineteen? That day just disappeared. Oh well.

I’ve said that a lot, Oh well. As well as Of course. They seem to be the common thoughts that I have. Or don’t have. It doesn’t really matter whether their real or not, as long as they occur.

It was a dark and stormy night, the full moon obscured by the clouds. Well, no one really knows if it was full, because it was obscured by clouds, but a full moon is scarier than a waning three-quarters. The lights on the street glowed dimly, except for those in front of the Wimply Mansion. It couldn’t be rightfully called a mansion, but few people are interested in haunted shacks, so the neighborhood took to calling it a mansion. The street would glow brightly, except for the area directly in front of the broken down house. The area kids would dare each other to touch the old front gate of house as it swung and creaked in the wind. Usually it was another kid who was swinging and creaking it, because there wasn’t much wind in this part of the county. Most people believed it was haunted by the ghosts of the Wimplys, mainly because they heard other people calling it the Wimply Mansion, and figured it would be named after whoever was haunting it. It turns out most people were wrong.

The mansion was in fact haunted by the ghosts of the Turners, who legend has it were murdered in their beds while visiting the Wimplys. Well, legends usually have a way of getting blown out of proportion, but this one actually diminished with time. The truth of the matter is, the Turners were not only murdered at the Wimply’s house, but they were murdered by the Wimplys. The Turners were traveling on their yearly family vacation to the coast, and made their yearly stop to visit their old family friends, the Wimplys. Friends aren’t what they used to be. The Turners always were a little irritating to the Wimplys, but usually they brought good enough gifts for that to be overlooked. This year was different, as seen from the fact that the Turners didn’t survive the trip. It all started when the Wimplys were making breakfast in the kitchen, and the Turners walked in, all ready to eat. Later the Turners sat on the couch to watch TV. The Wimplys were irritated, but it wasn’t much new. Then Mr. Turner went to the store, and when he returned he parked his car in the driveway. It was then they knew the Turners had to die.

Late that night, as the Turners slept soundly, the Wimplys entered their rooms, each armed with rubber chicken. Less than three minutes later, it was over. The Turners had not waken up, and the chickens were unharmed. The next day, the Wimply’s loaded the bodies into the Turners car, telling the neighbors they had a hangover. The drove the car to the bridge, and pushed it off, but not before removing the change from the glove box. They returned home, and acted surprised when they heard a car had gone off the Bridge. They even pretended to sad when they heard the Turners died. Then they were sad, when they learned Mrs. Turner had diamond ring hidden in her pocket that they had failed to take out. The police never suspected the Wimplys, and never even wondered where they got all the moist towelettes. The Wimplys grew old in their house, and died there in peace. The Turners, on the other hand, were not at peace. It is they that haunt the house, waiting, wanting, willing someone to solve their case. But because the police never opened an investigation, there is no case, and thus little chance anyone will solve it. Anyway, on to the house.

The house itself was small, no more than a dozen rooms, four of which are bathrooms. The kitchen is tucked into a corner of the house, and is nothing special to look at. The entire third floor is taken up by an attic, and the second floor is only sleeping chambers. In the basement there are barrels and barrels of what is assumed to be beer, but there hasn’t been any one stupid enough to try it for thirty years, and the last person who drank it died of poisoning. On the other hand, it took him sixteen years until he died, and the police arrested his wife, but everyone knows it was the vats in the basement of the Wimply Mansion.