THE DEAD HERMIT OF SIMMONS STREET

I see you have CREPT INTO THE CRYPT of my CASTLE once more, kiddies heh-heh.  Tonight's tale is about a HOME ON THE SCARY, when two teenagers discover that the HOMEGROANER  is rather ROTTEN ha-ha!  I call it...
"There it is Reed, the home on Simmons Street here!" a teenage boy said to another, standing in front of an old, abandoned house in southwest-Canada, in the spring of 1962.  "The house belonged to a hermit who kept to himself a lot.  His next-door neighbor found him dead one night" the teenager continued, explaining.  "Well what's in there, Jack?" Reed asked him.  "Who knows man.  We outta check it out" Jack responded.  
"Alright dude, come on" Reed said and he and Jack crept up, onto the front porch, seeing old curtains inside the windows.  Jack got out his pocket-knife prying the door open with it, and the teens entered the darkened-home.  They flicked on their flashlights and walked through old garbage and newspapers strewn across the floors.  Jack and Reed lit cigarettes and smoked, exploring the place more.  The furniture was enveloped in cobwebs, and two rats chewed on garbage by the old fireplace.  "There's nothing in this old place man.  Let's just go" Reed told Jack.  "Yeah, guess not, Reed" he agreed.  
Jack left the home, and before Reed walked out, there was a pounding on a side door in the house.  Reed turned around, seeing the door begin to shake violently, and two rotted-hands slid out of the crack, as the door started to open.  The door fully burst-open, and a decaying-corpse stumbled out towards Reed.  Reed ran out of the home, running directly into Jack in the yard.  "What the heck man?!" Jack proclaimed.  "Sorry, somebody's in there!!" Reed exclaimed in fright.  The zombie stumbled out, onto the porch, with its long, ratty-hair of blonde, his decaying-flesh a pinkish-color, dressed in old rags.  "HOLY CRAP!!!!" Jack and Reed screamed.  The dead hermit staggered into his old yard, peering into the teenager's faces, with his eyeless-sockets, his left one having a little red-light glowing in it.  
The zombie no longer had a nose, just a misshapen-nose-hole.  "Welcome to my home boys.  I don't have visitors often on Simmons Street!" the dead hermit croaked in a whispery-voice, as blue-colored slime oozed from its decayed-mouth.  The zombie held blu-slimy human-organ and bit into it, as Jack and Reed ran.  
That experience was a bit DECAYDING I mean degrading hee-hee-hee.  That zombie was waiting for the DAILY GHOSTMAN to show up, but was pleased to have Reed and Jack stop by to bring a little LIFE INTO HIS HOUSE aha-ha-ha-ha-ha!  The hermit picked the ROT DAY to have visitors too ha-ha-ha-ha.