For Halloween, is there anything better than a scary story? Yes! A scary story about a scary story! Hot diggity!
The Giggle in the Scary Story
There was a scary story. There was a giggle. One day, the giggle got into the scary story.
The scary story wasn’t very scary anymore, and it didn’t like that at all.
Before the giggle, the story had ghosts and monsters and great bunches of terrible things to make your knees go knickety-knock. It did this by being frightening, and it was frightening because you never knew when it would go, “Boo!”
When it did, it made you jump out of your pants.
The police once stopped four people who were walking home at night without their pants. The police said, “Why aren’t you people wearing pants?” They were very cross.
The people told them, “We heard the scary story!”
The police understood that and told them not to listen to scary stories anymore. People should always wear pants. If they didn’t, the people who made pants would be out of work. And if that happened, they’d have no money to spend. And if they didn’t spend money, rich people couldn’t get richer, and wouldn’t that be an awful thing?
“So always wear pants,” they said. “And don’t listen to scary stories.”
Then the police let the people go home.
It didn’t happen anymore though. Ever since the giggle got into the scary story, people always wore their pants, even to bed.
The story would tell about an awful, mean ghost that would come out at night from the mist over the river. It would slither, not like a snake, but like a chilly fog, icky and wet and only ever almost there.
Everyone who heard the story got goosebumps on their arms and legs. Some people would hide under tables, they were so scared. But just when you thought it was too scary to stand, there would be a giggle.
“Tee, hee, hee,” the giggle would go. Then people weren’t scared.
It’s hard to be scared if someone’s giggling. It makes you want to laugh. And it’s hard to be scary if you’ve got a giggle in you.
The scary story had a big problem. “How do I scare people out of their pants when I’ve got this giggle in me?” it asked.
It was like having hiccups. You can’t get rid of them.
“I wonder…,” the scary story muttered. “Some people say a good scare will get rid of hiccups. Maybe it will get rid of giggles too.”
For the first time ever in history, which is longer than an afternoon visiting an old aunt, the scary story told itself…to itself!
Can you imagine that? A scary story telling a scary story to itself? What happens if a scary story gives itself the willies? How would it ever get to the end?
The story began, “There was an old rickety house…hee, hee, hee. And it had an old rickety ghost…heh, heh, heh. And the ghost didn’t like anyone…hoo, hoo, hoo. One dark night people came to visit the house… heh, heh, heh! Oh my…yes, and then the old ghost fluttered and wailed and rattled the furniture… ho! ho!…hee…hee… whoo, whoo…It was so scary! Ha! I can’t stop giggling!”
The scary story was not scary.
Then it thought, “Something else will have to scare me. But what?” It looked everywhere. But what could possibly scare a scary story? It scratched its head over that one.
Suddenly, the story yelled, “I know what will scare me! I should have thought of this before!”
What do you think it was?
It was this: An ending!
What could scare a story, especially a scary story, more than coming to the end?
And if it was a “happily-ever-after” ending? Oh my!
It would scare any story to know it was almost finished. And for a scary story to know it’s ending with a happy ending? It would give you the willies! If you were a scary story, that is.
Now the story that was still giggling jumped ahead to the end. It said to itself, “And so the ghost was chased away, and the old rickety house wasn’t rickety anymore. And the people lived very happily in the house after that.”
Oh, now that’s scary, if you’re a scary story.
In fact, after saying “the people lived very happily in the house after that”, the story’s hair stood on end! If it had had arms, they would have gotten goosebumps.
Actually, the paper the story was written on got goosebumps. Bumpety-bump-bump-bump—all down the page.
The ending was so scary, it chased the giggle away as if it was a hiccup. After that, the story was really scary.
No giggles. No happy ending. Just things to make your knees go knickety-knock.
It lived happy and scary ever after.
But don’t ask me to tell you the scary story. I won’t. I don’t want any of us to get the willies.
And I want to keep my pants on.
– 1996 –
