And all through the town, not a creature was stirring save one un-dead clown. The locks on the doors were all fastened with care in the hopes that this zombie-man would not stop there. The children were hiding all under their beds, while visions of monsters rampaged through their heads. And ma with her pitchfork and me with my torch, had settled to wait quietly by the porch. When out down the street there arose such a wailing I sprang from my post to see who was so ailing. Away down the alley the streetlamps went off and I heard the most heart-stopping spine-chilling laugh. The moon bright and full peeking out from the trees shone faintly on me as I steadied my knees. When, what to my wide open eyes should appear but a hideous form that inspired much fear. With a face like the Joker, but rotting and grey, I knew in that instant I must get away. More rapid than owls his voice then did come, And he moaned, and he groaned, and he sounded so glum! "Now running, now hiding, now crying and screaming! Oh, don't all these humans know just how unseemingly rude they can be to this poor un-dead clown! If I only had just one friend in this town!" As dry leaves rustled off and away bats did fly, I turned and I faced him, and saw in his eye the most horrible loneliness man ever knew, so I sighed and did what I just had to do. And then, bravely facing this unforseen trial, I held out my hand and I said with a smile: "Hello my name's George, and just who might you be?" And the old un-dead clown turned and looked at me. He was dressed all in rags, from his head to his toes, but while they were dirty, what colorful clothes! The kind that a circus clown wears every day, only these were quite ratty and faded away. His eyes- how they rolled! and his teeth, how decayed! His face was all moldy, his hand sharp as a blade. His droll little mouth was sewed up like a shawl, I don't know how he managed speaking at all. The stump of one arm hung limply at his side, And his breath smelled distinctly like dead fish and low tide. He had big clown shoes all covered with grime, and his hair was all greasy, like well-oiled slime. He was skinny and dreadful, an awful old thing, And he hobbled on over, Mr. Halloween! A roll of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know that I had much to dread. He spoke not a word, but came straight at me, and if faced with this monster, I'm sure you'd agree the bravest thing you can do is to shut your eyes, And giving up hope, wait for the surprise and pray it won't hurt, and you won't see it coming else you lose nerve and resort then to running. With a breath on my neck that made known he was near, he said "Trick-or-treat!" And then dissapeared.
...You're evil... Well, I can read and I say that tomorrow will be the best day of this mounth (tomorrow and last friday, day 28th). =]
