recursal/Fanatic-Fandom huggingface dataset:
"IT'S JOEY!!!"

Welcome HACK BOILS AND GHOULS, for this TWENTY-NINETH TERRIFYING-ISSUE OF CREEPS CASTLE.  I, your FEARLEADER, CREEPS, have a REVOLTING-ROUNDUP OF CHILLS for you all.  Like this one, about a boy who returns home for the night, I call...

One early-evening in June of 1930, a small boy pulled some radishes out of a garden in the country of southeast-Indiana.  He loaded a basket up with the radishes, as he sung, Oh, Susannah! and a man came up behind him, beating him to death with a shovel.  The man then buried the boy's body in the garden and walked onto the front porch of a farmhouse, grabbing a bottle of Ripple from on a table, taking a big swig from it.  Later on that day, the man went into his front room of his farmhouse and dialed a number on his telephone.  "Yes, Operator, please connect me to The Ruben Residence.  Thank you.  Les, hi it is your Brother, Martin.  I am afraid your Son, Joey has run away during his visit with me this week!" the man said over the phone.  A year later, Martin was smoking a cigar out, on his porch at dusk, when he noticed his garden moving.

Martin drunkenly went into his farmhouse and heard the telephone ring in the living-room.  He answered it saying, "hello?".  "Can I come visit you again Uncle Martin?  It's Joey!" a distorted-voice moaned and groaned over the phone and hung up.  Uncle Martin gasped and hung up his phone.  He latched his front door and sat in his living room chair, nervously smoking.  Soon, Uncle Martin heard someone singing: Oh, Susannah! in a distorted-voice somewhere outside.  He stood up, nervously pulling the shades down on his living room-windows, which were open.  Uncle Martin went into his kitchen, grabbing a meat-cleaver, and returned to the front room.  The singing was now at the side of the farmhouse, and as Uncle Martin stood silently next to one of the open-windows.  The knob of the front door turned, the door creaked-open and in came some white colored smoke, along with the living dead zombie of Joey.  The corpse had: rotted-out eye-sockets and its skin was dead-white and slowly peeling off.  Joey's zombie came at his uncle in his dirt-covered-old-white-shirt and pants.  His bare-feet, covered with maggots and worms crawling over his decayed-flesh.  Uncle Martin screamed and gasped, jumping back at once.  "IT'S JOEY!!!" the zombie moaned shouting in its distorted-voice, with more maggots and worms spewing out of his rotted-out mouth.  Uncle Martin took a swift swing at his dead nephew, with his cleaver, plunging it directly into the zombie's head of matted-black-hair.  Joey continued to approach his petryfied-uncle.

Uncle Martin drunkenly grabbed a half-full bottle of Jim Beam Whiskey, and smashed it over Joey's rotted-head.  The zombie of the boy grunted hoarsely, but reached out, gripping his uncle's throat.  The zombie pulled out the meat cleaver from his decaying-head, driving it into Uncle Martin's chest, murdering him.

Well, that boy got a little ripe eh, kiddies?  I mean talk about a SLOPPY JOE Hee-Hee-Hee-Hee.  As for Poor Uncle Martin, he found out that GETTING DOWN AND DIRTY WITH HIS NEPHEW, wasn't quite a CLEAVER THING TO DO AFTER ALL ha-ha-ha-ha.
THE MILLER FAMILY CASE

Yes!  I won a game of Mumbly Peg.  I give this game a HUMAN THUMBS UP heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!  While I keep taking a STAB at more rounds of this game, here's a little TALE OF TERROR-RIFIC TONES.  About a detective who gets a little assistance in solving a murder mystery, entitled...

On a rainy night in Greenwood, California, back in 1980, a detective was prowling outside, around a grey house with a flashlight, shining it on the windows.  "This is March 20th, 1980, I, Detective Skinner, am at The Miller Home.  The time is 2:03 a.m." the detective recorded on a tape recorder.  Detective Skinner unlocked the side door with a set of keys and went inside.  The closed-in porch where he stood in, was cluttered and wrecked, with a sofa turned over, a lamp knocked over ajnd books scattered about.  He went further into the house.

"There seems to be a path of books going from the porch, to the living-room.  Signs of a struggle eminent" he recorded further, flashing his flashlight into the living room, where the television-screen was smashed, and a knife was on the floor next to the coffee-table.  Detective Skinner ascended the main staircase and found a a bedroom with a corpse under a sheet.  He knelt to the floor and its boney-hand dug into his wrist from underneath the sheet.  The body yanked the sheet off it and it was a skeleton.  "So you came back, Detective Skinner.  My skin you peeled from my bones wasn't enough for you to do to me?!" the zombie groaned in a lady's voice.  He screamed and ran into the upstairs-hall.  A shorter figure in a gray hoodie fell into his light.  "You killed my Parents and you peeled my face off sir!" it, being another zombie, groaned in a boy's voice, its skull peering at the detective.

Detective Skinner backed away from him in a shocked scream.  He turned, falling down the staircase.  The detective groaned in pain.  The light flicked on in the living-room, and a figure approached him, its face having no nose or lips, its hair gray, standing in a black robe.  "Hello Detective Skinner you psychopath.  You can't murder our family twice!" the zombie croaked in a clotted-voice, with black ooze spilling from its mouth.  More of the ooze was around it.  The zombie's eyes were solid-white and the light went off with his dead face shining in the darkness.  Detective Skinner screamed: "I KILLED YOU ALL!  I SOLVED THE MILLER FAMILY CASE!!".  The two other zombies joined the zombie, chewing and ripping at the flesh of his face, as Detective Skinner screamed madly and their dead skulls shined in the dark and killed him.

Well, Detective Skinner sure had to FACE IT in the end.  The Miller Family were GRAVE-ING A MIDFRIGHT SNACK, but he showed up a bit late ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
The Hollow

Hee-Hee, Good evening kiddies.  I, CREEPS, am just PRE-SCARING your beds for TO-FRIGHT in my CASTLE OF CALAMITY!  There we are.  I hope you'll be nice and cozy in DEAD with these SKELETONS heh-heh.  Well, I have all of you COVERED with a tale that will catch you HEAD ON, called...

A young girl walked down, into a hollow in northern-Kentucky, on a night way back in 1881.  She wandered in the dark with her lit-lantern and heard some old man singing "My Old Kentucky Home" gently.  "Hello?" the girl called out, but the singing continued.  The child glared all over the hollow, not seeing anyone in sight.  The singing of the old man was now closer, as she got deeper into the hollow, among the shadowy-trees, hearing the sounds of crickets behind the mysterious singing.  "Hello?" the kid called once again, and a human-head came flying out of the blackness before her.

It landed beside her and she gazed down, at its white beard and rolling-eyes.  The bald head gazed up, at the girl and it was the one singing in the old man's voice.  Before she could gasp or scream, a zombified-body approached her, dressed in rags, with yellow, dead-flesh splitting and peeling.  Green ooze seeped out of the splitting-skin.  The girl screamed and ran into a lit-cabin.  The zombie picked up its head, and the head stopped singing as the zombie let it drink from a bottle of Jim Beam Whiskey.  The zombie carried its head onward, through the darkened-hollow.

Well, the zombie got the ball...or HEAD ROLLING ha-ha.  Of CORPSE, he did seem a bit ROTTEN to the girl.  But in the end, the zombie did get HEADED OFF AT THE PASS aha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
THE PHARMACIST

Greetings again kiddies.  This SLIME OF THE FRIGHT, I am usually IN DEAD ha-ha, but there's a full-moon out tonight, so our story is GHOST APPROPRIATE...

There was a pharmacy on the corner of Beaver Creek, Maine.  It stood there in the Summertime-breeze of 1946, and a little boy and girl entered the place.  "Hia kids!" the pharmacist said to them from behind the counter.  "Hi Mr. Waggle" the girl and boy replied to him, with grinning-faces.  "Just in time for your prescriptions and lollipops of course, Michael and June" Mr. Waggle smiled at them.  "Yes please sir" June and Michael said to him.  Mr. Waggle gave them each a lollipop from a jar on his countertop and reached into his white coat-pocket retrieving two bottles of tiny blue round pills.

Michael handed him 25 cents and Mr. Waggle handed him and June each a bottle of the medicine.  "Thank you have a nice day" Mr. Waggle wished the children.  "Thanks sir you too" they wished him and ran outside.  As the kids walked through the town, the swallowed two pills.  "Well, my allergy medicine is down" June said.  "Mine is too Cousin" Michael told her.  They had their lollipops and an older man came up to them.  "Come on kids, I'll take you both to a nice carnival" he informed them, taking their arms firmly.  That night, the man showed up in the pharmacy.  "Good evening sir, I need some over-the-counter medication for a headache please" he proclaimed to Mr. Waggle.  "Yes sir" he said quietly and handed him a bottle from the back shelf.

Mr. Waggle turned, going into the back room and his silhouette on the glass in the door bent over as he clutched his throat, coughing.  The man drove to a house in a truck, while drinking Bourbon and he opened a closet, when he got inside, where Michael and June was tied up.  The moon was full and the kidnapper told the kids: "your Folks will never find you here."  A werewolf smashed a window and crawled in, glaring menacingly at the guy, with its small white-gleaming pupils in its black eyes.  The beast had light-brown fur and its fangs dripped and oozed yellow-slime, as it struck the man with both razor-clawed-hands.  The kidnapper screamed, the monster growling deeply and piercing his throat with its massive-teeth.  The werewolf was tall and mangy, with overgrown-fur and tore at the flesh of the kidnapper in the darkness, growling viscously.  As the thing straightened up over the dead kidnapper, it transformed into the pharmacist and the kids smiled.

What a SORE THROAT for the ol' kidnapper eh, kiddies?  The pharmacist really gave him A DOSE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE hee-hee-hee.  That is when he found out WEREWOLF THE KIDNAPPER LIVED, then Mr. Waggle ended up WOLFING DOWN his own prescription eh!  Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha.
An Evening In A Funeral Parlor

Hia Kiddies. I, CREEPS, have a GRAVE STORY for you all. It concerns an undertaker who has FRIGHT a COFFIN CASE, called...

It was raining during an evening back in May of 1949, over somewhere in western-New Jersey, outside a building. A sign outside of the building read: "MILLER'S FUNERAL HOME" on it. Within Miller's Funeral Home, an undertaker looked down at the dead body of an older man, lying within a casket. "Well, Mr. Baker, you are finally dead. You were just an idiot when I was a teenager sir. I remember when you called my Father when I was drinking Jack Daniel's Whiskey sir" the undertaker said to the corpse. He held up a hatchet and rose it up, over the throat of Mr. Baker's dead body then.

During the night, the undertaker drank a bottle of Jack Daniel's Whiskey, as he sat in a chair within the funeral parlor. He looked over at the coffin that was now closed and grinned. The undertaker got up and walked out, onto the front porch of the funeral parlor then. He took a drink of his whiskey as it rained. Meanwhile, the lid of the coffin opened, and the headless-corpse of Mr. Baker sat up, being a living-dead zombie. The headless-zombie of Mr. Baker climbed out of his casket, and lurched forwards in his grey suit and black and white-striped-tie then, and gray dress shoes. There was a shovel out, in the yard, behind Miller's Funeral Home, sticking up, out of the ground where a pile of dirt was at. Within the rain, the headless-zombie of Mr. Baker lurched to the shovel, grabbled it and dug up the hole. Within the hole was the head of his corpse and as his headless-zombie pulled it out of the hole, his dead eyes opened, now being dark-purple and without pupils in them. Mr. Baker's zombified-head laughed in a whispery-voice, as his headless-body held it by its pale-white-neck.

The undertaker drank his bottle of Jack Daniel's Whiskey, standing on the front porch and looked into the window of the funeral parlor then. He then faced forward again and saw the headless zombie of Mr. Baker holding his zombified-head, standing in front of him. "Good evening, Ronald Miller. You cut off my head!" Mr. Baker's zombified-head said to the undertaker in his whispery-voice. His flesh was pale-white and his black straight short hair was messy. Ronald Miller screamed in horror and ran into the funeral parlor. Ronald Miller saw the severed-zombified-head of Mr. Baker looking into the window and screamed. The headless-zombie of Mr. Baker lurched into Miller's Funeral Home and reattached his head, making the sickening-sounds of cracking-bones. "Mr. Baker!" Ronald Miller said to the zombie, and the zombie picked up the hatchet from on a chair. It put its dead pale-hand on the undertaker's head, jerking it back, and rose the hatchet in the air. The hatchet lowered and there was the sound of it slicing a head off. That evening, Mr. Baker's dead body was lying back within its casket, now with its dead hands on top of the dead skull of the undertaker.

That ending HEAD-ED IN THE FRIGHT DIE-RECTION eh, Kiddies? Poor Mr. Baker had quite a plan. He just had to HATCHET hee-hee-hee-hee!
The Truck Driver

I was just a little wine that's fresh and locally GROAN kiddies hee-hee!  I like to cuddle up at FRIGHT and WORM my DEAD-FEET by the fire.  Please join me for a sweet glass of LICE TEA and this tale.

On a June morning back in 1959, a teenage girl walked in the country of southwest-Oregon.  She wandered on the side of a road singing: "Danny Boy", when a truck drove up along side her suddenly.  It stopped and she did too.  "You need a ride Miss?" the truck driver asked her.  He had a black-sack over his head.  "Uh, yes please thank you sir" the teenage girl replied and got in the truck.  The truck driver drove off, down the road.

The girl looked at the truck driver's black sack and asked, "excuse me sir, why do you have that on your head for?".  "Well, my face is badly-looking Miss" he replied.  Two eye-holes were in the sack.  "Oh, I am sorry sir!" the teenage girl said.  "Thank you, it's alright though" the truck driver replied.  As the truck driver traveled down the road, they were approaching a little graveyard up, ahead.

"Um, right up here you can drop me off please" the girl told the truck driver.  "Alright Miss" he replied.  The truck driver stopped beside the cemetery and the girl got out.  "There you go Miss.  Have a good and safe day" the truck driver said to her.  "Thank you sir you too" she replied, smiling.  The truck driver removed his black gloves, revealing his rotting-hands of red.  He then removed the black-sack from his head, showing that his head was also rotting, being a dead zombie.  The truck driver had: rotten, red-flesh, decaying-eye sockets with bugs and worms crawling and swarming in and out of his eye sockets and decaying-mouth.  In his black coat and cap, the zombie of the truck driver grinned at the girl, showing his rotting, yellow-teeth.  "This is my graveyard Miss" the corpse told her and drove into the little graveyard, laughing.  The girl screamed and ran for it.

That story just DROVE ME NUTS how about you, Kiddies?  Well, even if that truck driver makes GRAVE MISTAKES, he still drives in the ROT DIE-RECTION!  Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!!
Night Watcher

Hello again Kiddies.  This is your BEST FIEND, CREEPS, with a PETRIFYING-PIECE this SLIME heh-heh.  It's about a couple of kids who find out that they're being watched!  I call it...

In May of 1898, there was a little schoolhouse in the countryside of mid-California one rainy-night.  Three kids came to the schoolhouse and the two boys and one girl stopped outside the double-doors.  "Boy howdy, you wanted to see what the schoolhouse was like at night, Henry" one boy said to the other one.  "Yes indeed Allen, it indeed looks different" Henry replied.  "I think it looks spooky" the girl added.  "You can sure say that again Samantha!" Allen said to her.  Suddenly, Henry, Allen and Samantha saw two giant eyes of glowing-white peering at them in the light-falling-rain.  "RUN FELLAS!!" Samantha screamed and as all of them did, two older bullies stopped them in the dark.

"Where do you think you are runnin' off too kids?" they asked Samantha, Henry and Allen.  "Hello, fellas, we were just going home" Allen replied.  "Let's play a little game first eh" they said.  The bullies picked up random rocks and big stones, tossing them at the kids.  "OW HEY!!!" Samantha, Allen and Henry cried out in pin, being hit in the arms.  The bullies kept throwing stones and rocks at them, knocking them all to the ground, screaming in pain.  The bullies chuckled heading to them in the light rain.  All of a sudden, the giant, shining-white eyes moved forwards, blinking in the night and the kids looked, seeing the pair of eyes hover over the bullies.  The bullies started screaming and fell to the ground.  The eyes returned to its previous spot in the darkness by the schoolhouse, watching the children.  Allen helped Samantha and Henry to their feet and peered down at the bullies, seeing in the bright-moonlight that they were both dead, having beak-marks in their corpses throats.  "The thing killed them, it must be a monster Henry" Allen told him.  "Yeah" he agreed and he, Allen and Samantha turned around.  The bright-light of the moon moved and shone down on the pair of eyes.  It was indeed a monster, with a black beak and black flesh, resembling a bird partially-covered in blackened-slime.  The little monster was perched up, in a tree and in the moonlight, its eyes were mysteriously black.  The children watched it watch them, as it slowly vanished in the rain.  "Come on" Henry told the others and they fled.

Wasn't that really IM-PECK-ABLE for those bullies boys and girls?  Talk about BIRD-WATCHING eh.  Samantha, Allen and Henry really had to WATCH OUT, because they were being EYED DOWN Heh-Heh-Heh-Heh-Heh.
Town Of Vampires

Oh, there you are BOILS AND GHOULS!  I, CREEPS, have to be a FEAR-LEADER at QUICKEN GROANS ARENA!  THE CAVAL-FEARS are SLAYING THE MINNESOTA WEREWOLVES hee-hee-hee-hee.  I am doubling as A SCORE-CREEPER, but here's a preview of THE HALF-SLIME SHOW.  About a coachman who visits a village called...

Over in Romania, a horse-drawn carriage arrived in a village back in 1875.  A coachman called out, "vhoa!" to his two horses and the animals halted by a store.  The coachman went into the store and rang the bell on the front desk.  An elderly shop-keeper showed up from the back.  "Ah, greetings sir.  How may I assist ye?" he said to the coachman, wondering with a smile.  "Ah, hello sir.  I just arrived here in zis town, and am on a trip across zis country!" he explained.  "I see.  Vell, velcome to Town Of Vampires sir" the shop-keeper welcomed the coachman.

"Town Of Vampires sir?!  Ah, Romania 'tis filled vith ze blood-sucking creatures" the coachman concluded.  "Yes, it 'tis" the shop-keeper agreed.  "A malevolent vampire 'tis stalking and doing batttle vith ze benevolent vampires of zis village sir" the shop-keeper told him.  That night, the coachman was sleeping in a bed in a boarding house and someone came into the room.  They were in a light-purple cape and hissed loudly, waking the coachman.  He saw they were a vampire, and it hissed, peering at him with red-glowing pupils in its blackened-eyes.

The coachman screamed, getting out of bed in a flash, as the blood-sucker scraped the pillow with its red, piercing-claws.  With its black hair and its fangs in its quivering-mouth, the vampire struck the coachman across his chest with its claws.  He gasped and jerked in the dark.  The vampire oozed yellow slime from its mouth, ready to strike a second time.  As the beast got close up to the coachman, he decapitated it with a hatchet.  The body oozing out yellow slime, fell to the floor.

The next day, the coachman returned to the shop-keeper.  He drank a bottle of wine as the shop-keeper smiled at him.  "Hello sir.  I decapitated ze malevolent vampire last evening.  Zis village has nothing to vorry about any longer" the coachman explained to the old man.  "Hello sir.  Zank ye very much!" he rejoiced, gratefully.  "Ye are quite velcome sir.  Ye see, it 'tis quite easier to accomplish zat, when ye are a benevolent vampire like I am!" the coachman responded, with his flesh turning pale-white, his eyes becoming solid-black like his hair, as he stood in his white cloak.

Well, as I always SLAY, ONE DECAPITATED HEAD IS BETTER THAN NONE aha-ha-ha-ha-ha!  And what a REVOLTING-REVEALING of the coachman.  He sure LOOKED HIS BEAST when he came back to the shop heh-heh-heh.
Bullied

Hee-Hee-Hee, welcome HACK again, BOILS AND GHOULS, to my CASTLE for more MAYHEM AND MADNESS FEAR in my THIRTY-FIFTH EDITION OF CREEPS CASTLE!  Heh-Heh, the FIRST FEAR-FABLE of this ISSUE OF EERINESS, is about a young boy and the trouble he has at home.  This one's entitled...

There was a little boy walking in the halls of Redwood Elementary in northern-California, back in the Fall of 1956.  He wandered in the crowd of other children and had two black eyes.  The boy went into a classroom and an elderly teacher saw him, from behind the desk.  The teacher was standing, holding a biology textbook, and rushed over to the boy, looking concerned.

"Larry are you alright?  What happened to you??" the old teacher asked the boy.  "I cannot tell you Mr. Seymore I am sorry" Larry replied to him.  That evening, Larry was in a home, with a young couple standing in the living room with him.  "Ready to go to your Parent-Teacher Conference, Larry?" the woman asked.  "Yes Mama" he said.  "What the heck did you do now boy?" the man asked, taking a drink from a bottle of Jack Daniel's Whiskey.  "Oh, Ron, he didn't do anything wrong" Larry's Mother told the man.  "I'll give him more than two black eyes if he did do something, Claire!" Ron replied to her.

A half hour later, Larry, Claire and Ron were in a hall of Redwood Elementary and Mr. Seymore walked out of his classroom.  "Good evening, Mrs. Hanklin, how do you do?" Mr. Seymore asked Claire, with a smile shaking her hand.  "Oh, good, Mr. Seymore, thank you.  How are you?" she replied.  "Just fine.  Is this your Boyfriend?" he responded.  "Yes I am mister.  Ron!" Ron said, introducing himself.  "Oh, pardon me, I'll be right back then" Mr. Seymore said and walked into the Men's Room.

"Let's just go now" Ron demanded to Claire.  "Oh, we can't, Ron" she replied.  "Shut up Claire, just shut up" he snapped.  "You've bullied us too long Ron" Larry said.  He transformed into a hideous creature with black fur and long, razor-fangs and claws.  The beast had eyes of solid-red and it growled, menacingly.  With its high-pitched growls, it attacked Ron, feasting on his flesh as he screamed and wailed.  The monster gouged its fangs into Ron's ear and plunged its claws into his chest, killing him.  Mr. Seymore ran and saw this, screaming in terror.  The mini monster transformed back into Larry.  "I adopted Larry, Mr. Seymore" Claire explained.  "Oh, I see" he replied, wide-eyed.

Aha-ha-ha-ha-ha!  So, I guess little Larry wasn't KID-DING AROUND with Ron.  Little Larry became a LITTLE SCARY hee-hee.  Well, at at least Claire had THE BEAST SON EVER heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!  Talk about an AFTER GHOUL MEETING hee-hee-hee!
Crosetti The Puppeteer

Heh-Heh, hello again BOILS AND GHOULS!  You have COME HACK to see me in my own PUTRIFYING-PALACE for yet another EERIE EAR-SPLITTER OF HORROR.  This FABLE OF FEAR, comes with NO STRINGS ATTACHED so to SHRIEK ha-ha, entitled...

It was a cloudy day back in 1891, when a puppeteer put his puppets away into a trunk in a theater, over in Rome, Italy.  He took off with his trunk out the door and he walked up the cobblestone-street to a puppet shop, unlocking the door with a key.  The puppeteer went into the shop and a thief entered it then as well.  "Good afternoon, sir, you nare going to die today!" the thief told the puppeteer.  "No please mister, I am Crosetti The Puppeteer.  The children love me!!!!" he begged, but the crook shot him dead quickly with a gun.  The crook stole the money out of the cash register and ran off. The thief was under a bridge that night, sitting on the ground, with his sack of stolen money.  He sat and drank a bottle of Authentic Italian Wine and then whistled, Santa Lucia.  A shadow lurked in the light of the cobblestone-street, coming closer to beneath the bridge.  An old, raspy-voice spoke out to the crook: "good evening, sir."  The thief silenced his whistling, looking up.  Crosetti The Puppeteer stood under the bridge above him, freshly dead.  His cheeks had glowing-white circles on them like on a puppet's face, and the ghostly-zombie had darkened-skin and his bald head was beginning to rot and split-open.  Old Crosetti gazed at his murderer with shining-eyes of white, and stood in his white, collared-shirt, pants, shoes and red bow-tie which had blackened ooze running down them.  More blackened ooze ran down the decayed-sides of Crosetti's chin, making the zombie's mouth resemble a puppet's mouth. The thief screamed, as the zombie drove its rotting-hand of darkened-skin into his chest, killing him.  Twenty minutes later, the corpse of the murderous thief hung in the window of Crosetti's puppet shop, hanging by marionette strings.

Crosetti's murderer sure ended up being STRUNG ALONG didn't he kiddies?  Crosetti was sure DEAD ON with his skills, especially when he made quite a DUMMY out of the thief, being the PUPPET-FEAR and all hee-hee-hee-hee!
JOY LAND

Hello kiddies.  Are you all ready to visit a SCREAM PARK?  Good, because that's the SLOPIC of tonight's EERIE-OFFERING Heh-Heh-Heh-Heh!

Two teenage boys rode bikes along the side of a road, in east-North Carolina.  It was a morning in 1958 and they were laughing, until they saw an abandoned theme park.  "Hey, Carl, let's check it out!" one teenage boy said to the other.  Alright, man" Carl replied.  They parked their bikes at the entrance and entered the park.  The sign up, above the gates read, "JOY LAND" in dark-green, capital-letters.

Carl and his friend explored Joy Land, seeing an old ferris wheel and an old, old merry-go-round, among rotted-out booths and a decayed roller-coaster.  "Wow!  What do y'all think of this place, John?" Carl asked his friend.  "Rotted but cool" John answered.  As John and Carl walked around the roller-coaster, they found a yellow and green-striped tent.  "Cool, look at this John" Carl said.  "Neat tent Carl" he replied.  There was a high-pitched voice suddenly from inside the tent calling: "hello, please come in fellas!".  John found the opening to the tent and looked in.  Two glowing-green eyes were in the darkness, staring back at him.  The sound of an axe slicing through flesh was heard, as those eyes blinked and stared at him.  The noises of high-pitched growling came from the thing.  John pulled his head out of the tent, screaming.  "MOVE, SOMETHING'S IN THERE MAN!!" John screamed at Carl.  He ran out of Joy Land, followed by Carl and they roade away on their bikes.

Looks like that creature was just AXING John and Carl to go into that tent, eh, kiddies?  It's ahame John and Carl had to go so quickly, they could have rode the SCARY-GO-ROUND Hee-Hee-Hee!
The Zyphor

Hee-Hee, greetings, kiddies.  I'm currently working on my golf practice!  It's real easy once you GET THE SWING OF IT.  Interested?  Good, we could use you kiddies, as new members of our CLUB HEE-HEE-HEE!  You might also be interested in tonight's tale...

A young man pulled up to a motel, out, in the countryside of southwestern-Illinois, in a blue Chevy one night in June, 1968.  A young lady was beside him in the passenger's seat.  On the car-radio, The Byrds sang: "Mr. Tambourine Man".  The young man turned the car-radio off and the Chevy too.  He and the young lady got out.  "This is it Molly" the young man said to the young lady.  "Looks nice Pat!" Molly replied, looking at the motel.  "Yes it does" Pat agreed and Molly kissed his cheek.  Pat and Molly went inside the motel, together.  A minute later, Pat unlocked a door in the motel, opening it and he followed Molly into the room.  "It is nice in here" Molly said.  "Yes it is far out babe!" Pat answered her, agreeing. Later that night, as the slept in bed, Pat awoke, the bathroom-light on.  He checked it out and discovered a creature sitting in green slime in the bathtub.  Its flesh was black, its ears were pointed and the thing was bald.  It scraped the side of the tub, with razor-like claws of black on its long, twisted-fingers.  As the monster stared at him with glowing-white eyes, it screeched in a high-pitch at Pat, showing red-fangs, twisted and long.  It clawed a message into the side of the tub, in green-slime, then disappeared.  Pat gazed at the message terrified and speechless, drinking a bottle of wine.  It read: "I AM THE ZYPHOR!  YOU SHALL NEVER FORGET ME!".

I guess Pat and Molly found that motel to stay in at the right SLIME eh, kiddies?  My GOLFING SKULLS have improved by the way.  All I have to do is swing and shout GORE the HOLE time.  It's a rather easy game of COARSE Ha-Ha-Ha!
Michael Gove

Michael Peterson Daily Mail Gove is the member of parliament for Surrey Heath and has held several prominent secretarial posts within the Cameron Ministry including Secretary of State for Justice. He is also a backstabbing wank weasel and has fishy connotations, and obviously is not to be trusted. That being said, he has a rather attractive voice.
FINDING WILLY

A HORRIFYING HELLO Kiddies.  I just was SLAYING some Golf.  I'm starting to get THE SWING OF IT Hee-Hee!  Join the CLUB and have SKELETONS OF FUN eh?  Tonight's HOLE IN ONE, is about some boys looking for a Friend.

It was a morning in late July of 1960 when two boys were wandering in the downtown of a town called Farmington in Kansas.  "We have to go find Willy tonight Andy!" one boy told the other one.  "Yeah, we haven't seen him in two weeks man" Andy agreed.  "What do ya think hapened Dave?" Andy asked the other boy.  "I don't know man" Dave replied, turning a street-corner.  Later on that night, Dave knocked on a window of a house.  Andy came to the window from inside, seeing him.  A minute later, Andy snuck out of his house, hiking off with Dave.  "Hey, man, want a cigarette?" Dave asked Andy.  "Sure thanks" he answered, taking one from him and they each lit one and smoked.

When the boys came to the edge of Farmington, Dave turned on his transistor radio.  On it, Chubby Checker sang "The Twist".  Five minutes later, Andy found a corpse in a wheat field.  Dave turned his radio off.  "IT'S WILLY HE'S DEAD!!!!" Andy screamed.  The corpse of Willy had pure-white skin and black-slime covered his lips and was around his dead-eyes.  The body was in a white baseball uniform and suddenly, it got up, being a zombie.  "Hi guys, Ben and Shawn did this to me!" the zombie of Willy said. Later, the boys followed the zombie back into town, finding two bullies on a street-corner.  The bullies were drinking bottles of Scotch.  Willy put his rotting-hand into one of their backs, killing them.  "BEN WHAT THE HECK?!?" the other bully screamed at the dead one.  "Hi Shawn" the zombie said to the other bully, peering at him, with his solid-white eyes, scratching his black hair.  Shawn screamed, as Willy chocked him to death, as Andy and Dave watched with widened-eyes.

Shawn was so surprised by Willy, that he got ALL CHOKED UP ha-ha-ha-ha.  At least things turned out GHOUL and Andy and Dave found their FIEND.
MARY

Heh-Heh-Heh, come in, boys and girls, to my CASTLE once more, and settle in for a TANTALIZING-TALE OF FANGTASTIC-FEAR!  I call this MORBID-MEASUREMENT...

A thief drove through the countryside somewhere in Nebraska, one late-afternoon back in 1968.  A police car with two policemen in it, drove after him in a chase.  "Darn it, the Man's on my tail now for that robbery!" the thief said, looking into his review-mirror, as The Beatles sang, Revolution, on the Chevy-radio.  He drank a bottle of Jim Beam Whiskey, as he drove fast.  The cop in the passenger's seat shot out of his car-window, blowing out the back tire of the crook's Chevy, with his gun.  The thief yelled, as his car sped from the road, wrecking into a wheat-field, as he jerked at the wheel. The Chevy crashed on its side and the crook fell unconscious.  A couple moments went by, until someone got the car open and grabbed him.  It was a young lady, and she quickly carried him off, on her shoulders.  That evening, the crook woke up in the bed of a farmhouse.  "Where am I hello?" he called out and the young woman rushed into the room.  "Oh, hello, sir.  My name is Mary.  You were in a little wreck and I got to you just in time!" the klady explained, introducing herself to him.  "Oh, uh, thank you ma'am.  I am Ed" the thief replied, introducing himself and began coughing.  Mary gave him a glass of water.  Ed drank some of it and handed it back to her.  "Thanks.  Is this your home I take it Mary?" he asked.  "Yes Ed it is" she answered.  "Please spend the evening and I will call a doctor in the morning!" Mary said, invitingly.  "Thank you" Ed replied, rubbing his head. An hour later, Ed was sound asleep and Mary quietly came in.  She now had: no pupils in her eyes, her long, dark and straight-hair surrounded her pale-white flesh.  Her pale-skin had cracks within it.  She stood beside Ed in her red dress and peeled back her red lips, revealing fangs.  Mary hissed, waking Ed.  He gazed up, at the vampire, screaming over and over, trying to get up.  The monster sunk its fangs deep, into his throbbing and quivering throat.  Mary ended Ed's screams killing him, as she ripped and tore at his flesh, hissing louder and louder in the night.

Well, that was a DIE-BOLICAL BIT OF TERROR eh, Kiddies?  Hee-Hee!  I guess for Ol' Ed, that really BITES eh?  Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!
The Family Of Butchers

Hello again Kiddies.  I just came back from a little HAUNTING TRIP over in THE SI-SCARE-RA DESERT hee-hee-hee-hee!  I brought back this SHIVER-SHAKER OF A GORE-Y I call...

Back in 1951, it was raining down on a meat-packing plant in Chippewa Lake, Ohio in May one day.  A few kids rode their bicycles passed the meat factory and one pulled his bike over on one side of the building.  "Hey, sorry guys, I didn't know it would rain today" the boy said to the two other boys, parking their bikes next to him.  "It's okay Dan.  At least it's coming down lightly" another boy replied.  "Yeah" the third boy agreed.  "Well, I wonder what that family of butchers could be doing in there now.  What type of meat they're packing, Sam" the third boy said to the second.  "Who knows Denny" Sam responded to him.  "I don't think I want to find out!" Dan said and a door on the plant opened a little.

An extremely thin man squeeazed through the opening dressed in black, with his hood up.  He carried a trash bag and dumped it in the can.  He gave the boys a glare.  What they saw was a zombified-face of a skull with eyes peering at them.  Then, the zombie went back into the factory with the door sliding shut.  Denny, Sam and Dan had a fit, peddling away on their bikes in the rain.  That evening, Sam, Denny and Dan returned to the meat factory and Sam led them around to the door where the zombie emerged from earlier.  "Quiet now" Denny whispered to Dan and Sam.  It was all dark inside the plant.  "Look, the door is open slightly, Dan" Sam whispered.  The boys snuck in and a creepy, weird squishing-sound was heard somewhere within the factory.  They had their flashlights shining and a shorter figure fell into Dan's light.  It was a second zombie, the skin was a decaying-light brown color.  The dead man had one large eye and one slit for his other eye, grinning away with rotting-teeth under a black, handlebar-mustache.

The living-dead guy was bald and wore brown shoes, pants, a white apron and a yellow bow-tie, all coated with cob-webs.  "Hello fellas, the family of butchers who own this place, share some of their meat with the three of us.  We are dead and crave meat!" the rotting-zombie uttered in a raspy voice, explaining.  A light came on, and a third dead man stood over a table, squishing some meat in his decaying-hand.  The zombie was also bald and had red-rotting-flesh, peering at the boys with eyeless sockets, dressed in white with a white apron on.  He had a toothless, rotting-mouth and he crammed the meat into his dead-mouth, as flesh fell from his dead-cheeks.  The zombie who was also a skeleton from earlier, cackled distortedly from a corner, and jammed meat into his boney-mouth with his decayed-boney-digits.  The boys screamedand fled the meat factory.

Well, hopefully that skeleton will PUT SOME MEAT ON HIS BONES eh, kiddies?  It's a wonder why those zombies were not FRIGHTING WITH EACH OTHER, because they one had a BEEF about the meat aha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
The Matriarch

Heh-Heh-Heh-Heh, welcome BOYS AND GHOULS!  I, your PHARMACIST OF FEAR CREEPS, has got quite a PUTRID PRESCRIPTION for you that I personally KILLED...oh, I mean filled.  This MEDICINE OF MADNESS is labeled...

"Great-Grandmother Lillian shall be here exactly at four-thirty sharp.  She always arrives at that time" an old lady told a teenage girl in a dining room, over in England somewhere.  It was back in the Autumn of 1950, and the teenage girl said back, "yes Grandmother, she is your Mother and I have never even met her before."  "She is the matriarch of our Family my dear sweet Katherine.  She is very nice indeed" the old woman added to her.  Katherine saw the grandfather-clock.  It was "2:30 p.m.".

When the grandfather-clock read "4:30 p.m.", there was a car that squeaked to a halt in front of a cottage.  In it, a decaying-zombie of a really old elderly woman got out of the driver's seat.  The corpse in a white dress, moved gradually towards the house with its long gray hair blowing in the breeze.  Her rotting-flesh was solid-black and her decaying-eyes shinied-grey through her glasses.  "Ah, Great-Grandmother Lillian has arrived, Katherine dear.  And the rumor about my Mother is that someone stole her wedding necklace just a week ago that your Great-Grandfather had given to her on their wedding day.  Today just so happens to be the anniversary of their wedding" Katherine's grandmother explained.  Meanwhile, a maid drank a glass of wine in the parlor and a pair of decaying-black-hands clutched her throat, as worms crawled all over them.

The maid spilled her wine, gasping for air in terror.  The zombie of Great-Grandmother Lillian had ahold of the maid's neck.  "You stole my wedding necklace and killed me ma'am!" the zombie croaked in a distorted-voice, as maggots spilled from her rotting-mouth.  The maid was choked to death and the zombie got her wedding necklace of solid silver from in the pocket of the dress of the maid's body.  Five minutes later, Katherine went outside to her great-grandmother's car and screamed at what she observed.  The zombie of Great-Grandmother Lillian sat at the steering-wheel, her rotting-eyes still shinng-grey.  The zombie smoked a cigar and on the hood of the car, was the skull of the maid with her hair still on it.

Well, the murderous maid sure MAID A PRETTY HOOD GORE-DAMENT right, Kiddies?  That sure gives a BOO-TIFUL addition to Great-Grandmother Lillian's car.  She must use a lot of MA-SCARE-RA, even though she's quite ROTTEN ALL OVER hee-hee-hee-hee
The Blue Pill

Welcome kiddies to my CASTLE for this SEVENTEENTH-DEADITION OF CREEPS CASTLE!  It's me, CREEPS, again, with yet another MORBID-MORSEL for you all heh-heh-heh!  I entitle this one...

A hippie wandered through the streets of San Francisco, California, back on a night in 1970.  He passed another hippie, who was sitting on the sidewalk, holding an acoustic guitar.  "Hey, man, how's it goin'?" the hippie who was standing asked the other one.  The other hippie strummed his western-style guitar once and replied, "good man, yourself?".  "Groovy!" the hippie standing said, smiling.  "Here man, this is a far out pill, that will like trip ya all out!" the hippie with the guitar said, handing the other one a small, blue capsule.  "Groovy, thanks man, peace!" the other hippie said and walked off.  He popped the blue pill in his mouth and swallowed it.

The hippie turned a corner and stopped, seeing a little figure in the crowd, coming towards him.  It wore a white robe and had pale-white flesh, with white, long, straight hair.  The thing's eyes were pupil less and stark-white.  Its claws were red and sharp, protruding from its fingertips.  The hippie gasped at the thing and it vanished, being some sort of ghostly-monster.  The hippie slowly walked on, passing three women, who were on the street, smoking cigarettes and a guy who drank a bottle of Wild Turkey.

The hippie started seeing the sidewalk turn to a thick, oozing, slime-path of green.  "Whoa!" he muttered, walking in the slime.  As he went, he heard a deep, deep-moaning and groaning from somewhere.  The hippie stopped and looked back, seeing the ghostly-monster again.  It was coming to him in the crowd.  The hippie screamed and ran through the slime-path.  His surroundings grew pitch-black, except for the slime beneath him.

Then, he stopped, hearing the continual-moaning and groaning getting louder and louder.  Something jutted passed him and fell into the thick-slime.  The hippie saw that the thing was the ghostly-monster's head, seeing that its mouth was opening and filled with razor-fangs of red.  It was what was moaning and groaning, deeply.  The hippie screamed, as he looked behind him, seeing the headless, ghostly-monster directly behind him.  It clutched his arms with its claws, tightly.  Then, it vanished.  The hippie saw its head vanish as well, along with the slime and the blackness faded into San Francisco again.  "Far-out man!" the hippie remarked and took off.

I guess that hippie was just DRUG ALONG eh, kiddies?  Don't try any weird drugs boys and girls.  They might be MONSTROUS-MEDICINES ha-ha!  I think that hippie won't take any DERANGED-DOSES NEXT SLIME Hee-Hee-Hee-Hee-Hee!
The Pond

Hello kiddies, I, CREEPS, was just preparing to go on a little fishing trip!  It should be a lot of FIN and I shall probably get HOOKED on it ha-ha!  But don't worry, I'll leave you with a rather WATERED-DOWN tale, about a hillbilly...

On the evening of July 4th, 1958, there was a hillbilly, out, on his farm in northeastern-Kentucky.  He stood, eating an apple, seeing a purple Chevy stop along the road.  Two thugs got out of the car and ran over to him.  "Howdy, mister, we're here to rob y'all" they told the hillbilly, holding guns to his head.  The hillbilly screamed and said, "alright y'all crooks, take what I have in m'farmhouse!!!!".  "Ya'll heard him, let's go!" one of the thugs told the other.  "Yehaw!!" the other exclaimed, as they all went into the farmhouse, together.

The one thug shot the hillbilly in his leg, causing him to scream out in pain and fall to the floor.  The thugs stole diamond-rings from a drawer in the front room, stuffing them into bags.  They also stole bottles of Kentucky Bourbon and Jim Beam Whiskey from the cupboard in the kitchen, swigging them down.  Going out the back door in the kitchen, they came to a pond in the backyard.  A huge, bright-red blob was floating on the pond in the light of the moon and moved to an edge of it.  The thugs observed it.  "What the heck is that thing James?" one thug asked the other.  "I don't know, Yancy!" James replied to him.  Just then, the blob rose up and showed its glowing-white eyes, as it growled deeply and devoured James, with its hige-mouth, that dripped black-slime out of it.  James screamed being eaten alive.

Yancy fired his gun at the monster, enraging it, causing it to attack him.  Yancy splashed in the pond, screaming and being consumed, black-slime oozing over his entire body.  The monster growled and devoured Yancy whole.  The hillbilly stumbled out the back door, with his leg wrapped in a bandage.  "Ah, good girl, y'all got fed!!!" he said to the monster on the pond, as it floated around.

Didn't you enjoy that one, kiddies?  Hee-Hee!  Well, I guess those thugs really got covered in POND-SCUM ha-ha!  Even though that was a rather FISHY-STORY, I did catch a fish on my trip.  It even took me a LAKE OF EFFORT to do ha-ha-ha!
The Knocking On The Wall

Hi BOILS and GHOULS, I was just RESCARING THE GRAVEMENT outside of my CASTLE here!  Hopefully, it'll give you a HORRIFYING-HINT about the SLOPIC of this evening's tale.  It concerns somebody who is a bit WALLED-OFF, and is quite a KNOCK-OUT.  I call it...

A man walked into an apartment up, in New York City, back in early-Winter, 1940.  "Looks nice and cozy" he said to himself, looking around the room.  The man kept warm by a little roaring-fireplace in the front room and sat on the sofa, turning on the radio on the end-table beside it.  "Jeepers Creepers" was being sung by a man on the radio.  As the man on the sofa covered up with a blanket, he heard a knocking on the wall behind him.

"Huh, must be my new neighbors hanging a photo or painting.  On the day I move in here too" the man said to himself with a chuckle.  "Oh well" he said, pouring a glass of wine from a bottle beside the radio.  The knocking stopped and he sipped the wine.  Later that afternoon, the knocking on the wall started up again.  The man was out, in his brand new kitchen, chopping some greens and heard it, along with "Buffalo Gals" playing on the radio.  He went over to the wall, as the knocking continued, then with a frown, returned to the kitchen.  Later that night, he was awakened in his brand new bed, by the knocking on the wall starting up again.  The knocking continued to go on for five hours.  It got louder and louder.  The man got out of bed, got his boots and coat onand stormed over next-door.  "Hey, hello, I am Horace Whittaker your new next-door neighbor, please stop knocking on the wall.  I'm trying to sleep!" the man called, knocking on the door.  Horace Whittaker shivered in the falling-snow and returned to his apartment.

The knocking on the wall kept going on getting louder and becoming pounding.  Horace saw a hole get punched through it.  He gasped in surprise and jumped, backing up.  A moldy-limb reached out of the hole, and it was the color of white.  A zombified-head poked out of the wall behind the arm and hand, looking decomposed, covered to the brim with the same white mold.  The eyes of the corpse were blood-shot and rolling, and the corpse opened its decaying-mouth, revealing black-rotted-teeth.  "I got trapped in here when this place was being built.  I was one of the builders.  I died in this wall and have finally broken through it after five years of knocking!" the zombie muttered in a raspy-voice of a man to Horace Whittaker.  "Your next-door neighbor trapped me in here causing me to die sir.  I shall finally seek my revenge tonight" the zombie explained, climbing through the hole in the wall.  The zombie slunk slowly out of the apartment in old, red overalls, a white shirt and old, black work-boots.  Horace Whittaker latched his door up tight in fear and moments later, heard the screaming of his nexst-door neighbor followed by the sound of a neck being broke and the zombie's raspy-laughter on the other side of the wall.

Hee-Hee, talk about being DRIVEN UP THE WALL...OR IN ONE eh, Kiddies?  Well, it looks like Horace sure GOT THE GOOP ON HIS NEW NEIGHBOR NEXT-GORE eh?  Hee-Hee-Hee!