"A Clubhouse Crew (Boo) Halloween"
“Dracula, the Mummy, Werewolf, are near; Franky, the Howler, and all of them clear, oh, clearly out and about. Boo!” Scatty cat Cleat yelled and he grinned like a silly gopher.
“Quit!” Putt shrieked. Shaking, her tiny hands held her long, smooth tail.
They walked, they were there, and very near
Where tombstones littered the yard
They walked and talked, the buried were near
Where spirits and spooks stood guard
Frightening, skies darkened. Clouds passed by the bright moon. Lightning flashed, as if hot, white arrows were shot from the thunder-god of pirate and sea-faring lore.
“Who-wee!” Winds blew. Trees boughs reached out as fiddle-fuddle fingertips that grasped at friends while hoot owls cried to trespassers, by.
“Hoot!” The old, bearded men-of-the-woods made spooky talk.
Eyes peeped from tree holes
Birds in their perch
Great eyes for night skies
They stalk and they search
Back, and forth
The old men’s eyes look
Nary a creature
Do they miss from their nook?
“A hoot!” The great, birds of prey called out.
Billy Bullwhip walked and peeped. He walked and held hands with friends. Billy’s big eyes bulged when he heard the old, bearded-men-of-the woods, talk.
Friends walked and they walked
They walked and listened
Eyes wide open, looking, eyes glistened
Looking for danger—danger was near
Listen closely and you might hear
The old men talk…the old men talk…the old men talk their way
Daring friends entered creepy Screepy Cemetery, oh, so, creepy territory.
With eyes, as big as eggs, friend’s faces twisted like sour grapes.
“Chip, can we hurry?” Putt held her tiny tail. “Please! Something tells me we’re not wanted here,” she sniffed and cried. “It’s so dark.”
“Yes, we’ll hurry, Putt,” Chip said. “But I…oh, look at that! Over there!” he yelled; and startled, he pointed, shaking.
Near an old picket fence a spooky figure wavered.
“Victor Frankenstein. He’s here at a grave,” Chip went on, “and he’s with his creation, the Monster.”
The stiff, malformed creature lifted the loose lid of a creaking, musty coffin.
“Who would believe it?” Lippy whispered.
Cleat watched as his tail twitched. “Yes, and wait. There’s more. Yes, see…
“The bride of the beast deceased is here
Where many walk and tread in fear
Appear, appear and then stay clear
Franky sits with someone dear.”
Swaying, Cleat cast green and brown eyes in spooky fashion. Friends stared as if all monsters of the worst nightmares had jumped from Monster Heaven. The she-creation, the Bride of Frankenstein, rose from her creaking coffin. Her tired and bloody eyes peered to visitors.
“Eek!” She shrieked. A sharp scream cut through a heavy blanket of night air like a roaring chainsaw might rip when logging timber.
Halloween night, it’s filled with such fright
Spooks and kooks real, or a prank, maybe…quite
Nearby, set in earth
A box made of pine
Nailed and jailed
A dead body inside
See the ground tremble
Hear the wood creak
Nails pop, a hand shows
Oh my—something sneaks
Sneaks and sneaks and peeks about
Rising, he stands, “He’s the monster!” some shout
Raised from the dead
Sewn with great care
Stuffed with a brain and a heart
He is rare
“Frankenstein, see?” They dared and they stared
“It’s Franky, oh run!” Dark and damp the night air
Stare, stare, and beware of the night
Halloween, skins crawl—and you’d call, “He’ll grab us he might!”
Frankenstein, the Monster, a friendly soul is all he ever wanted to be.
Shank shivered and stomped. “I don’t know if someone is pulling a prank, or if the graveyard is really haunted,” he said and shook fast fins. “Halloween night—Shank Shackeroo, Boo Boo, I’m gone. I’m praying I’m not staying to find out. Hitch-up your wagons and let’s roll.”
