THE SCARE-TAKER

Welcome to my DERANGED-DUNGEON down, underneath my CASTLE girls and boys.  I, CREEPS, ave a LITTLE NASTY-NUGGET for you all TO-FRIGHT!  This GOREY I just literally DUG UP.  So, SHOVEL OVER HERE, and take a SHRIEK at this DEAD-ON TALE I call...
Up in New England, a young man sipped a glass of wine in his mansion, as he glanced out, at the falling-snow from his parlor-window, back in the late Winter of 1911.  It was evening and a fire crackled in the parlor-fireplace.  The young man finished his wine, and walked out, into his hallway.  An old man carried a pail of coal in the hall.  "Truman, it is about time.  Hand me that blasted coal now!" the young man ordered the old man angrily.  "Oh, yes, Mr. Richland sir!" Truman said, feebly.  Mr. Richland grabbed the pail out of Truman's grasp and dumped the coal on the fire in the fireplace. "As the care-taker of my humble abode here, you are rather old, washed-up and useless Truman" Mr. Richland told him.  Truman came into the parlor and replied: "I do greatly apologize if you do feel that way sir.  I try my absolute best!".  "Not any longer you blasted sack of waste!  You are hereby fired!" Mr. Richland said angrily.  "But Mr. Richland sir, I have nowhere else to stay at or go!" Truman pleaded, but without a a word, Mr. Richland forced him out the double-doors.  Later that night, the snow continued to fall outside of the parlor-windows.  Mr. Richland read "Hamlet By William Shakespeare" seated by the fire in his chair. 
The doorbell rang suddenly, and Mr. Richland answered it, finding Truman trembling on his stoop.  "Please Mr. Richland sir, I am catching quite a cold out here!!" Truman begged.  Mr. Richland grabbed a pistol from a small table, shot and killed him.  "There!  Now you won't be bothering me any longer, Truman!" Mr. Richland said.  A year later, Mr. Richland satat his dining-room table, eating a plate of ham one night. He poured a glass of wine and drank it.  A grandfather-clock in the dining room chimed: "9:00p.m." and Mr. Richland looked over at it, then went to the dining room-window.  "Looks rather too cold this evening" Mr. Richland said to himself.  A half hour later, he was upstairs in bed, still awake.  He heard footsteps in his bedroom and saw the windows burst-open.  He sat up and a dead-grey-hand clutched his throat.  It was Old Truman, now a decaying-zombie in his old, blue suit and bow tie.  Mr. Richland's eyes grew wide, as he peered into the zombie's blackened and rotting-eye sockets, as worms crawled through the corpses longer hair of white.  The zombie of Truman smiled with yellowish-green, decaying-teeth, and quietly jerked Mr. Richland's throat, snapping his neck and murdering him.  From outside, the bedroom-windows slammed shut suddenly.  
Aha-ha-ha-ha, Truman sure had a FRIGHT GRIP ON THE SITUATION eh, Kiddies?  As for Mr. Richland, it was quite a SNAP for him in the end there eh?  Heh-Heh-Heh-Heh!