Deliciously Haunted
A haunted house your stomach will never forget
Popcorn Machine Kitty
I know I still need to intro the 4th of the Tuxedos, but I got this adorable picture of Shitpancake, AKA The Mongoose because he has a long body with short legs. He’s curled up on top of the popcorn maker taking a nap. He’s so friggin’ cute!
…Time for this week’s story…
Deliciously Haunted
This was Gerald’s lucky day. All he had to do for a twenty-thousand dollar payday was stay one night in a house that was supposedly haunted. Gerald figured the house was too new for that sort of thing, but couldn't pass up a fat payday.
The rich guy paying the bill was named Blaise and only asked for one thing. He needed Gerald to sign a document the following morning asserting that the house was haunted. A neutral third party was needed to verify the house was haunted to show that Blaise wasn't just trying to cash in on the insurance.
The peaceful and spacious three-story house was stocked with all the modern amenities. As he explored the first floor, the delicious smell of baked goods lofted into the house, but he could not find an open window to shut out the smell.
To keep his mind off the enchanting aroma, Gerald explored the house one floor at a time. Each room was increasingly spacious as he went up and had its own unique flair. The master bedroom on the third floor was the most luxurious of them all.
From window benches in the hallway, Gerald watched a serene and beautiful sunset. As soon as all the orange had left the sky and the sun was far away, Gerald felt eyes watching him. The house creaked and groaned. He assured himself it was his mind playing tricks on him, then he could deny it no longer.
A haunting voice emanated from somewhere in the house. A dark reddish substance dripped down the walls. In every case of this happening at a haunted location, the substance was blood. A drop of the oozing liquid fell onto Gerald’s cheek from above. Staring at the goo as it spread, he kept his cool until a hand fell gently on his shoulder.
Gerald burst from the bench and ran down the stairs. His feet moved so quickly he tripped over himself and tumbled down to the second story. His body slid along the tile floor on a thin film of the substance oozing from the walls. His face smashed into it and some splashed in his mouth. The copper taste of blood was on his lips before he even made contact. Scrambling to get to the stairs he slipped and stumbled. He whimpered and finally managed to grab hold of the staircase to pull himself over. Before he could continue sprinting for the door, he was frozen in place at the realization of what he was covered in.
“Wait, is this chocolate?”
Gerald ran his fingers through the thick liquid on the floor for a taste. On his tongue was the sweet song of delicious chocolate. When he looked up at the walls, the ooze was gone. The house was back to normal, and so was he. The haunting voice was still in the distance, but there was a jolly melody to it. He followed the sound of what seemed to be singing to the kitchen on the first floor.
What awaited Gerald in the kitchen was a feast of cupcakes, pies, cookies, chocolates, and many more delightful pastries. A clearing throat behind him caused him to spin around. He found himself now sitting in one of the house’s fancy dining rooms. The large wooden table was filled with all the pastries.
“Please, help yourself,” said a voice with a French accent. Gerald looked around him to see a tall, thin man with a bushy mustache and a chef’s hat standing nearby.
“Are you a ghost?”
“Monsieur, I am a chef.”
Ghost or no ghost, the food looked amazing. Gerald picked a few treats and laid them out on his plate. Each one was a delightful burst of flavor.
“These are all amazing,” Gerald complimented.
“Merci. It’s nice to cook for someone who appreciates my work.”
“Can I just keep eating and not get fat? This isn’t real, right?”
With a wry grin, the chef said. “Eat as much as you’d like. This was the feast I prepared when I died.”
“How’d you die?” Gerald did not stop eating.
“I was briefly the personal chef for that man, Blaise. It turned out the only thing he loved more than sweets was murdering the unaware. For his birthday I prepared this wonderful feast, but all he wanted was to kill someone who did not know it was coming.”
“What a jerk. Where’s your body?”
“It is beneath an oak tree on the estate. Why are you so relaxed about this?”
“I had to get certified to do this job. I freelance and work is kind of hit or miss, especially with hauntings, but I can't let this guy get away with murder. My mother would be ashamed.”
“Oh? A man of character. If you bring my killer to justice, you can take my spare chef’s hat with you from the kitchen so I can haunt it and I will teach you to cook so you don't have to freelance anymore.”
“You've got a deal!”
Gerald grabbed a shovel and found the old oak with a body buried beneath it. Once he had uncovered it, he called the police. Sloppily, the murder weapon with Blaise’s fingerprints were with the body. Blaise got the most expensive lawyer he could afford and still ended up in prison.
Gerald took the chef's hat home and learned to cook from the ghost. They quickly became friends and by the time Blaise’s verdict was passed, Gerald was getting his first job as a chef. He also got to regularly enjoy eating a buffet of phantom sweets and never getting fat.