Thursday, October 24, 2013

Don’t Tarry on the Scary

They’re heeeeeere!

Not the uninvited visitors who walk across the floor above my head when I try to relax watching reality shows in my basement recliner. Not Hick’s ghostly jeans hanging in the garage. Not headless people who have come to stand beside that noggin-challenged entity I saw in my basement. Not the thing that poked me in the back of the neck three times while I was sleeping. Not the mystery guest who opened and closed the kitchen and laundry room doors on two separate occasions, one with multiple witnesses. Not the—wait a minute! You’ll have to read that one for yourself.

I just noticed that Spirits of St. Louis:Missouri Ghost Stories is now available on Or you can order it from Rocking Horse Publishing. Or you can just lay around thinking, “Gee, I sure wish I could read that ghost story Val wrote under her real identity, but alas, I don’t know how to get my hands on one of those books.” Don’t be that guy.

There are plenty of other stories to scare the pants right off you, and onto the tire of a bicycle hanging from the ceiling of your garage. Don’t let the thought of forking over your hard-earned 44 oz. Diet Coke allowance for the slim enticement of a Val tale hold you back, bogged down in the quagmire of uncertainty. There are 29 other ghoulish works to rattle your supernatural bone. Blog buddy Donna Volkenannt has penned a piece as well. More likely she keyboarded it, but Val has never been a stickler for details.

C’mon. Halloween is on the horizon. You know you need a good frightening.


Because all business and no funny makes Val a dull gal, I will leave you with this true horror story:

Mr. W. looked out over the eager first-day faces of his class of fifth-graders. “And let me tell you, if you think you’re going to turn in late work in my classroom, you’ll soon find out that I turn into a holy horror.”

The next day, a parent called Mr. W. “My daughter must be a little confused. She came home last night and asked me if men could be prostitutes. When I asked her why, she said that her new teacher told the class he was going to turn into a holy whore.”


  1. THAT is too funny to not be true.

    Maybe Mr. W needs to talk about his transformation into a holy "terror" instead of horror. (That IS one word I try to avoid saying in my classroom, along with making sure that I don't hesitate in the middle of writing down the word "assignment" on my smartboard. There are--of course--other landmines I have to skirt around on a daily basis...)

  2. I've known a few holy whores in my day, not professionals, of course.

  3. Dang, I should know better than to read your post with a mouthful off peach tea. That is too funny!

  4. Now I've got this image of a holy guy with his pants scared off walking the streets looking for a 44 oz Coke. Maybe I should re-read what you wrote.

  5. Sioux,
    You don't even want to know about my other friend who jokingly called one of her 7th grade basketball players a silly twit. Who then proceeded to call her little brother a silly something-else at the dinner table, and stated matter-of-factly when reprimanded, "Oh, Coach calls us that all the time at practice."

    Of course. Hobbyists.

    Maybe I should put that on my header. "Val the Victorian: her posts elicit more spit than a good chaw of tobacco." Maybe I could use your name in a testimonial. Though people might assume you chew tobacco.

    Or maybe I should welcome you to my nightmare.