one more sleep

One more sleep, as they say.  Yup, there's one more sleep 'til Hallowe'en.

But on the other paw...

On the other paw, peeps might say one more sleep but I, Seville the Cat, should probably say it's more like uh...

Well...

Hmmm...

Seven.  Yup, there are seven more sleeps 'til Hallowe'en.

What can I say?  I'm a cat.  I take a lot of naps.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of sleepin'...

And speakin' of sleepin', last night, I had the most horrible dream.  It was a totally terrifyin' dream, to be sure.  A nightmare, I do believe.

Last night, I dreamt that my newly opened package of treats was empty.

MOUSES!

I'll tell you, my friends, I woke up in a sweat.  I ran to the kitchen to see if it was true.  To see if some peep had eaten my treats.

Thankfully, I found the package still full.  Whew!  That was a close one, for sure.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of treats...

And speakin' of treats, I noticed a newly opened box of those teeny tiny chocolate bars on the counter, yesterday.

What?  What's that, Peepers?  What's that you're babblin' on about now?

That's right, Peepers.  I was up on the counter.  I go up there, sometimes.  Actually, quite a lot.  Deal with it, my peep.  Deal.

MOUSES!

But my point is, it was a NEWLY opened box of Hallowe'en treats.  A new box to replace the previous one.

And it's not yet Hallowe'en.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of boxes...

And speakin' of boxes, those boxes Hallowe'en treats come in are TOTALLY USELESS for nappin'.  They're way too flimsy and weak.

Gosh darn it, a kitty tries to curl up inside of one and the sides all collapse before said kitty can even fall asleep, leavin' a big ol' mess of squished up and squashed Hallow'en treats.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of squished...

And speakin' of squished...

Hmmm...

Yeah, I've got nothin' for that.

MOUSES!

BUT WHAT I DO HAVE is a list of all my Hallowe'en adventures from Hallowe'ens past.  I know I posted 'em on Sunday, but if you missed that post OR IF YOU WANNA READ 'EM AGAIN, I'll post 'em once more.

'Cause remember, only seven more naps 'til it's...

Wait for it...

HALLOWE'EN!

2014:  The Broom Closet

2015:  A Hallowe'en Adventure

2015:  And Now, the Conclusion

2016:  The Hallowe'en Visitor

2017:  The Hallowe'en Ball

2018:  The Contest

2019:  The Haunting

you ever notice...

You ever notice....

You ever notice, my friends, how when your peep isn't feelin' well, THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD HAS TO COME TO AN END?

Yup, it's true.  Peepers wasn't feelin' well yesterday, and do you know what happened?

MY BREKKIES WERE TEN MINUTES LATE.

Of all the nerve.

MOUSES!

And it's not like she was even really sick.  I mean, she had a vaccination the day before and I guess it kinda threw her for a loop, but the thing is...

The thing is...

The thing is, MY BREKKIES WERE TEN MINUTES LATE!

And she's totally fine today, so I'm wonderin' if she actually was fellin' sick, at all.

MOUSES!

Now, I have to admit, it was pretty good of Peepers to go to the grocery store when she wasn't feelin' all that well.  I mean, I was in need of a few things.

But you know...

Well, did you ever notice...

Did you ever notice that when peeps come home from the store, they say things like, "Look what I got for you, Sivvers," and you look in the bags...

AND ALL YOU SEE ARE BARE NECESSITIES.

Now, it's not that I don't appreciate a bag of tins of the fanciest of the feasts, but let's be real: those are things she was gonna get me, anyway.  A bag of extra-strong catnip and a toy or two would have gone over better.

Don't know WHY she didn't go to the pet store as well as the grocers.

MOUSES!

And did you ever notice...

Did you ever notice, my friends, how peeps can buy candy at the grocery store as well as their egular fuds?  And how, at this time of year, there seems to be an extra lot of candy goin' on sale?

Yup, it's true.  Peeps are gettin' ready for All Hallows' Eve, and those teeny tiny chocolate bars are flyin' off the shelves.

And into peeps' arms

And into their tummies, too!

'Cause did you ever notice...

Did you ever notice that an awful lot of boxes of Hallowe'en candy get opened - and eaten! - well before Hallowe'en?  I know FOR A FACT that there have been years when my peeps have got in their Hallowe'en supplies extra early, makin' sure they're well prepared, and then had to go back to get more right before Hallowe'en 'cause the candy was already eaten.

But my peeps don't do that any more.

Now they buy EXTRA in the first place.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of Hallowe'en...

I've had quite a few Hallowe'en adventures, my pals, AND I KNOW YOU ALL MUST SIMPLY BE DYIN' to re-read 'em, WHICH IS WHY, I'm includin' the followin' list.

The Broom Closet from 2014.

A Hallowe'en Adventure from 2015.

And Now, the Conclusion also from 2015.

The Hallowe'en Visitor from 2016.

The Hallowe'en Ball from 2017.

The Contest from 2018.

The Haunting from 2019.

For your pre-Hallowe'en, readin' pleasure.

MOUSES!

a super scary decoration

Hey Peepers!  Whatcha up to?

Nothin', huh?

Hmmm...

Why?  Why was I wantin' to know what you were doin'?

Well...

Hmmm...

Okay, so it's like this, Peepers: Tuesday is Hallowe'en.

Yeah, yeah...  I know Hallowe'en is for the kiddies.  I know, kiddies, not kitties.  Don't you be worryin' about me.  Saffron and I will be inside, snug as a couple of bugs.  Not that we ever are bugs, by the way, but of course that goes without sayin'.  But we'll be inside long before the kiddies start goin' door to door, lookin' to score themselves some candy.

But uh...

Well...

Well I was thinkin'...

Actually, Saffron and I were both thinkin'.  YES, we do do that sometimes.  There's no need to make that kinda face.

MOUSES!

But the thing is, Peepers, Saffy and I were thinkin'...

Again with the face.

SAFFRON AND I WERE BOTH THINKIN' that since you haven't put up any Hallowe'en decorations to make the house look all scary and whatnot, we kinda thought...

Well we figured...

We kinda figured and thought...

Okay, so it's like this: Saffron and I have decided that if you don't bother usin' a comb on your hair Tuesday mornin'...  Not that anyone will actually notice, mind you.  BUT if you don't bother combin' your hair AND you don't bother with any makeup AND you maybe get dressed up in a long black skirt or dress...

Well...

WELL WE'RE PRETTY SURE we can pass YOU off as a super duper scary Hallowe'en decoration.

Not that anyone's likely to notice the difference.

MOUSES!

What?  What did I say?  

Oh come on there, Peepers.  Don't go off in a huff.

Gosh darn it, I see we're gonna have to pass her off as an OVERLY SENSITIVE, super duper scary Hallowe'en decoration, for sure.

Maybe a troll, rather than a witch.  I've heard trolls are an overly sensitive lot.

MOUSES!

Wait!  Wait a minute, my friends.  WAIT ONE MINUTE there, if you will.  If you've been thinkin' about all the adventures I've had on Hallowe'ens past, why not check 'em out as an extra special Hallowe'en treat for yourself?  I'll make a list of 'em right here.  Right in one spot.

MOUSES!

Hallowe'en 2014:  The Broom Closet

Hallowe'en 2015:  A Hallowe'en Adventure & And Now, the Conclusion

Hallowe'en 2016:  The Hallowe'en Visitor

Hallowe'en 2017:  The Hallowe'en Ball

Hallowe'en 2018:  The Contest

Hallowe'en 2019:  The Haunting

*******************************

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

talk about scary!

Talk about scary.

MOUSES!

I know, I know...  I know what you're thinkin'.  You're thinkin' if I'm talking 'bout scary stuff, I surely must be talking 'bout Hallowe'en.

And you know what?

YOU'RE RIGHT!

Kinda.

Sorta.

Whatever.

Okay, so Hallowe'en IS tomorrow and it would be wrong for me to not say something 'bout that.  I mean, Hallowe'en comes but once a year, right?  To not give it a mention at all would be a huge omission on my party.

So...

So, yeah, tomorrow is Hallowe'en and there will be ghosties and goblins runnin' about; not to mention all the kiddies out there dressed up as that incredibly dashing marmalade cat named Seville.

As if they could possibly dress up to look as handsome as me.

MOUSES!

But anyway, like I said, tomorrow is Hallowe'en and I'm bettin' all my pals out there are gonna want to re-read some of my Hallowe'en stories...  I mean, REAL LIFE ADVENTURES that happened on Hallowe'ens past, so...

So...

SO...

So just click on the titles of each of the followin' REAL LIFE ADVENTURES and you'll get to read all about 'em:  the broom closet; a Hallowe'en adventure; and now, the conclusion; the Hallowe'en visitor; the Hallowe'en ball; the contest; and finally, the haunting.

But in the meantime, let me tell you what's REALLY scary.  Really, really, REALLY scary.  Way scarier than anythin' Hallowe'en might bring.

No, not Peepers' hair.

On the other paw, Peepers' hair IS super scary but believe it or not - and I know this will be extremely difficult to fathom - there's somethin' even scarier than that.

No, really.  I kid you not!

So let me tell you all 'bout it.  Once again, the Internet was givin' me grief and Peepers had to set up a new modem Friday night only to find out...  I mean, ONLY TO BE REMINDED how much of an utter technological nincompoop she is.  She was so beside herself, she was practically pullin' out her own hair!

Hmmm....  Wonder if that's why Peepers' hair is as scary lookin' as it is.

MOUSES!

But anyway....

But anyway, two hours down the drain Friday night, AND ANOTHER FOUR OR FIVE HOURS yesterday mornin' and early afternoon, and...

And we finally have an Internet connection once more.

The woman is almost bald now, and that's not at all pleasant for me to see, but at least my Internet connection is up and runnin'.

What's that?  What's that, Peepers?  What's that you're babblin' on about now?

You did too.  I saw you.  You did too pull out several of your hairs outta frustration.

Oh go stick a sock in it, woman.  Here's a couple Toonies.  Go buy yourself a nice wig.

You can even shop for it on-line.

Now.

MOUSES!

**********************

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

whoa, nelly!

Whoa, Nelly!  WHOA, NELLY!!!  There are some things a kitty can never unsee.

MOUSES!

What the mouses are you doin' there, Peepers?  You wanna terrorise the kiddies, this Hallowe'en?

What do you mean, what do you mean?  WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

But I thought...

But it seemed...

I was so sure.

Gosh golly and darn it, a kitty sees his peep first thing in the mornin' before she's combed her hair and washed her face, and the next thing you know, SAID KITTY IS GETTIN' IN TROUBLE FOR THINKIN' THE UNCOMBED AND UNWASHED FRIGHTENIN' MESS BEFORE HIM IS A HALLOWE'EN COSTUME.

MOUSES!

And to be fair, she did look super scary.

So Hallowe'en is comin' up this weekend and it's lookin' like it's gonna be a lot different from other years, for sure.  For one thing, peeps have been wearin' masks for the last few months, so puttin' on a Hallowe'en mask is gonna be like...

Well...

Like your normal day when grocery shoppin'.

MOUSES!

Although truth be told, perhaps had Peepers been wearin' a mask this mornin', she wouldn't have scared me half to death when I saw her.

Good thing the litter box was nearby.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of litter boxes...

Not MY fault what I deposited in it is frightening.

But alas, my friends, I'm afraid there's no Hallowe'en adventure this year on account of flyin' fryin' pan and teleportation - not to mention broomstick - travel restrictions.  Plus, with social distancin' and limits on gatherings, the Weasel Syndicate's activities have been placed on hold for the mo.  Of course, this is a good thing, even if a little boring, so...

So...

SO...

So I thought to myself, what better way to enjoy Hallowe'en than by readin' some of my Hallowe'en adventures from Hallowe'ens past?

Did you know they say that if you say Hallowe'en three times in a row, somethin' super scary and grotesque will appear?

At least that's what I've heard.

*looks about*

Guess it's not true though.  Must be nothin' more than some kinda urban legend.

AAARGH!!!

Sorry 'bout that.  It was just Peepers walkin' into the room.

MOUSES!

But back to the topic at paw: my past Hallowe'en adventures.  I'm includin' the links to adventures of Hallowe'ens past, so feel free to pull up a chair and click on a link, and you'll be magically transported to a frightfully fun-filled Hallowe'en adventure.

Oh-oh.  I just said Hallowe'en three times again.  Bet Peepers will be walkin' back into the room any time now.

MOUSES!

2019:  The Haunting

2018:  The Contest

2017:  The Hallowe'en Ball

2016:  The Hallowe'en Visitor

2015:  A Hallowe'en Adventure and And Now, the Conclusion

2014:  The Broom Closet

***********************

And remember:

IF IN DOUBT,

DON'T. GO. OUT.

Continue to practice SOCIAL DISTANCIN' measures

AND KEEP WASHIN' YOUR PAWS.

MOUSES!

Remember to mask up, too.

the haunting

Sittin' back on my haunches, I eyed the guy on the other side of my kitchen table.  I then nonchalantly examined a claw before taking a quick peek to see if my tactics were workin'.  I didn't want to appear overly eager to accept his...

What?  WHAT THE MOUSES WAS I THINKIN'?  I didn't want to appear eager at all.  It wasn't like I was a cat with too much time on his paws.  No sirree.  I, Seville the Cat,  was a cat who had way too much to do to even think about doing some stranger a favour.

"It's like this," I explained.  "I'm busy."

The guy just looked at me, apparently not knowing what to say.  Or maybe he didn't hear me.  That was a possibility, too.

"I'M BUSY!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.  "Way too busy to be romping through some old falling-down house."

The guy...  I SERIOUSLY should have asked for his name before lettin' him in, 'cause he looked a little green in the gills, like he'd been into the Hallowe'en candy, and one never knows when a guy like that might upchuck on a cat's favourite nip mouse, you know.  Anyway, the guy pushed a scrap of paper across the table, toward me.

I gingerly picked up the paper with one paw, turned it over, and...  Oh. My. Mouses.  My jaw dropped.  Was this guy really offering to PAY me to check out his house?  And pay me this much?  THIS much?  My gosh, a cat could buy a lot of nip with that kinda money.  A cat could buy a lifetime supply!  Nine lifetime supplies, for that matter.  A cat could...

On the other paw...

On the other paw, it wasn't like I was a private investigator or anythin' like that.  I didn't even have a license - you know, on account of cats not needin' to be licensed in Annapolis County - and without a license, I was pretty sure acceptin' money as if I were a professional licensed private investigator, could get me in a whole whack of trouble with the local authorities like Animal Control.

I wondered how the guy even got my name.  So I asked him.

"Your reputation precedes you, Seville the Cat.  EVERYONE in town knows of your adventures on Hallowe'en, not to mention your dealings with the Weasel Syndicate.  If anyone can prove the house I inherited from my late employer isn't haunted, it's you."

The guy made a lot of sense.  I did have a reputation.

"So let me get this straight.  You want me to check out this house of yours from top to bottom, like a...  Um...  Like a home inspector would?

Gosh darn it, I wasn't a licensed home inspector, either.  MOUSES!

"Yes.  I want to sell it, you see, but with the house's reputation of being haunted, no one will consider even looking inside, never mind buying it.  I can't even get a Realtor to agree to show it."

Hmmm.... "You realise we'd have to do this under the table..."

What the mouses?  Why was this guy getting down on his knees to crawl under the table?  I rolled my eyes, realising what he was doin'.  Peeps.

"Eyes up here," I said, rapping on the tabletop.  "I meant, as I'm unlicensed when it comes to investigating stuff - or anythin' else, for that matter - I can't charge you money for doin' so.  I would, however, be legally able to accept a gift of a kilo or two of nip."

I think.

The guy nodded, turned, and walked toward the door.  "We can begin now.  I have a car waiting out front."

I scribbled a quick note for Peepers, telling her where I was going, before following Igor out the door.

Yeah, Igor.   That's what I was callin' this mysterious guy.  Not 'cause that was his actual name but rather, on account of my not knowin' his actual name, and truth be told, he looked like an Igor, for sure.

On the ride over to Igor's newly inherited house, he explained how he had inherited it in the first place.  How his former employer had dropped dead in the midst of a dinner party, along with all of his dinner guests.  Poison, the police had said, although who had done the actual poisoning, had never been discovered.  Igor also, once again, listed the mysterious goings on, he needed investigated:  Strange sounds in the attic, lights mysteriously turning on and off, creaking noises all through the night, and a putrid smell emanating from a wall in the dining room.  It was pretty scary stuff, I tell you, but as a cat who has dealt with the likes of the all sorts of dastardly villains, I was not one to be put off by the thought of a ghost or two.  Not even three. MOUSES!

I considered the possibility that the Weasel Syndicate might be behind what was happening at Igor's house and asked if he, or his former employer, had ever had any dealings with them.  Dealings that might make those weaselly weasels want payback or something like that.

"Not that I am aware," was Igor's response.

MOUSES!

Moments later, our car pulled to a stop in front of Igor's newly acquired house.

Did I say house?  Mansion was more like it.  Two full stories plus an attic.  The thing was huge.  It literally dwarfed all the other houses on the street.

And speakin' of houses, I wondered if maybe the owner of one of those houses was behind the scarification of Igor's new abode.  I mean, they were all new builds.  All modern styles, decorated with pretty purple and orange lights, and play ghosts and stuff, for Hallowe'en.  Igor's house, on the other paw...  Well let's just say, Igor's house didn't need a whole lot of decorating.  The falling down decrepitness that it was naturally exuding, gave it a haunted look with which no commercial Hallowe'en decorations could hope to compete.

Could the neighbours be upset that no matter how much they decorated for October 31st, this old house was still out-spooking their own?  Nah, that didn't make sense.  If the neighbours were all hot under the cat collar 'bout this house bein' spooky, there's no way they would be playing tricks on Igor, making him think it was haunted.  It was more likely Igor's house was bringing down the property values in the neighbourhood and...  Nope, that didn't make sense, either.  Nothing can make property values plummet faster than a full blown haunting residing on your very own street.  MOUSES!

Not that I know this from PURRsonal experience, but a cat hears things, you know.

We approached the front door which opened all on its own.  Not a good sign.  I was tempted to hightail it outta there at top speed, but then thought of the catnip Igor - 'cause I was still calling him that in my head - was gonna give me, and decided to see things through.  So tail held high, I waltzed through the front door, into the...  Lobby?  No, front hall, was my guess, although a tad bigger and a lobby it would be.


A wide circular staircase led to the second floor, and I decided to make my way upstairs.  I'd start by investigating the strange noises in the attic, then work my way down, figuring out why lights were turning on and off and why there were strange noises at night.  Finally, I'd tackle the putrid smell in the dining room, as that was what I was dreading the most.

I turned to Igor and said, "Be right back!" before scampering up the staircase at top speed.

Two and a half hours later, I had fully investigated the house and was ready to report back.  Igor and I sat in the breakfast nook off what I assumed was one of those things peeps used to call a drawing room.  Not 'cause it was breakfast time or anythin' like that - although I could have done with a snack - but rather on account of the stink in the dining room, and the fact that the breakfast nook was out of smelling range of that.

"So you see, I explained, "your house isn't haunted at all.  In fact, there's a PURRfectly...  PURRfectly...  Get it?  'Cause I'm a cat, and cats...  Never mind.  Anyway, there's a perfectly logical explanation for everything that has been going on here.  Nothing ghostly or ghoully at all."

Igor listened intently.

"The noises in the attic are on account of your havin' squirrels up there.  A whole family of 'em, I believe.  In fact, I think it's an extended family with multiple generations.  I've asked 'em to move out, and they've agreed.  Now it seems that Junior - that's one of the squirrels - was teething somethin' awful sometime back.  Rodents teething troubles are nasty, indeed.  Anyway, when Junior was teething, he took a liking to electrical wires, and...  Well...  Thing is, you've got a short in your wiring now.  You'll need an electrician to see to that.  And that short is what's causing the lights to flicker on and off.  As for the nighttime creaks and things, that can be explained by the old dumbwaiter leading from the original kitchen downstairs, up to the dining room.  Apparently, it's hooked up to the electrics, and when the wiring shorts out as it has been doing, it activates the dumbwaiter and the darned thing moans and groans and...  Well...  Creaks."

"What about the stench in the dining room?" Igor asked.

"Dumbwaiter, again.  Apparently, some dummy, pardon the pun, put a full main meal on it sometime back, then forgot it was there.  Maybe at that dinner party, when...  You know.  Anyway, you've got a whole load of rotting brussel sprouts, along with goodness knows what else, hidden behind that wall and quite frankly, it stinks."

Igor nodded.  "Thank you, Seville the Cat.  Your expertise has been very much appreciated.  I shall hire an electrician immediately, clean out the dumb waiter, and help those squirrels pack up their belongings and find a new home.  It's such a relief to have proof my house is not haunted after all."

"I bet, and uh...  About that nip..."

"I shall have two kilograms of catnip delivered to your home, forthwith."

I smiled.  "Well I guess it's time for me to be off, then.  Glad to be of service, my new friend.  You find any other signs of ghostly activity, just give me a ring, but seriously, I'm confident you won't.  There isn't a single ghost calling this place home."

I went to shake Igor's paw - I mean, hand - and all of a sudden...

All of a sudden, Igor disappeared in a puff of smoke.

For Igor...

For IGOR, himself, was a GHOST.

an open bag of treats

I could have told you that would happen, Peepers.  I COULD HAVE TOLD YOU it would.

As a matter of fact...

As a matter of fact, I think I DID.

MOUSES!

So the first peep had to go out and buy more Hallowe'en candy the other day.

And do you know WHY Peepers had to go out and buy more Hallowe'en candy?  WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHY she had to go out and buy more Hallowe'en candy.  Peepers had to go out and buy more Hallowe'en candy on account of Peep #2 openin' up the first box, early, and once it had been opened up, the candy disappeared like magic.

MOUSES!

But that's what it's like at my house.  Peeps leave a box of chocolates unopened, and that box of chocolates could stay unopened like that for years.  But you open it up, and...

WHAMMO!

It's gone.

MOUSES!

Of course, this is not what happens with my cat treats.

Okay, so maybe it is, but seriously, we're talkin' about Hallowe'en candy here, and not my tempting treats.

MOUSES!

But back to that Hallowe'en candy.

Box number one is now toast.  Not literally toast, of course, but toast nonetheless.  Box number two is still somewhere 'round here.  As for box number three...  Well box number three is still at the store, on account of box number two - SO FAR - bein' unopened.  But hey, give the peeps time:  Hallowe'en's not here for a week.

MOUSES!

Now back to the topic of treats.


Treats for me.  And Rushy, too, I suppose.

BUT NOT FOR THE PEEPS!

I don't eat the peeps' Hallowe'en candy, and I expect them not to eat my treats.

It's not that I'm bein' selfish, or anythin' like that.  The peeps are veggies, you see, so my not allowing 'em to eat any of my tempting treats is actually...

Well...

Well it's actually like I'm doing 'em a favour.

MOUSES!

And speakin' of treats...

Speakin' of treats, I happen to know - FOR A FACT - that there's an open package of freeze-dried salmon sittin' up on the kitchen island right now.  Open.  Open like it's sittin' there WAITIN' to be eaten.

I also happen to know there's a wee little empty spot in my tummy, on account of my tummy tellin' me it has a wee little empty spot.  You know, because I've not eaten a thing for days and days and days and...

Okay, for hours and hours and...

Okay, I've not eaten a thing in the last forty-five minutes.

But still...

But still, the fact remains, I've got an empty spot in my tummy, and there's an open bag of treats in the kitchen.  Now, a cat puts two and two together, and a cat gets...

Five?

Nah, that's not right.

Four.


Nah, that's not right, either.

I know!  A cat puts two and two together, and a cat gets...

HEY PEEPERS!  I'm in dire need of a snack over here.  Wanna paw me over a few freeze-dried salmon treats?  Once the bag is open, Peepers, I need to eat 'em right up.  They're not gettin' any fresher, you know.

MOUSES!

the contest

"Okay, OKAY...  Yeah, that's it.  Okay, a little more to the left there, Andy.  Hmmm...  Scratch that, a little more to the right.  Keep goin'.  Keep goin'.  KEEP GOIN'.  Nah, that looks sucky.  Move it back to your left, would ya?  No, YOUR left.  YOUR OTHER LEFT.  That's it.  Yup, keep on movin'.  A little more...  A little more...  A little..."

"MAKE UP YOUR MOUSING MIND, SIVVERS!  This carved pumpkin is really heavy."

"Yeah," Seville grinned, "but it's super spooky lookin', too.  We are SO GONNA WIN the neighbourhood Hallowe'en decoratin' contest this year.  No one - AND I MEAN NO ONE - has anythin' as good as this in their yard."

"Probably because no one around here is able to push these big jack o'lanterns around," puffed Andy.  "Honestly and truly, Seville, it's REALLY heavy.  Could you at least give me a paw?"

Seville thought for a bit.  "If I'm helpin' with the movin', I won't be able to direct.  Now push that thing another foot...  I mean, paw, over to your left.  MOUSES!"

"Whew!"  Andy sat back on his haunches after giving the pumpkin one final shove.  "Do you think that looks like it's in the right spot, now?"

Seville gave the pumpkin an appraising nod.  "Yup, looks just about PURRfect to me.  Now for the next one."

"NEXT one!  How many of these pumpkins do you have?"

"Just a dozen or so."  Seville held up a paw, "And before you start complainin', I'M the one who had to carve 'em all.  I asked the peep for help but she was busy doin' somethin' in the kitchen.  Somethin' stupid, would be my guess.  You know, basic stupid stuff peeps do."

Andy nodded with understanding.

At that moment, a black van came racing down the street and screeched to a halt in front of the cats' house.  Both front doors flew open and out popped two weaselly looking characters.  They approached Seville; the one in the lead holding a clipboard.  "May I speak to the gentleman of the house?" he asked.

Furrowing his brow, Seville replied, "That would be me.  What do you want?"

Vigorously shaking Seville's paw with both of his, he answered, "Wilton Weston Weasel from Shakers and Movers Moving - a subsidiary company, wholly owned and operated by the Weasel Syndicate - at your service."  Having finished his spiel, he bowed with a flourish.  "I understand you're in need of a moving company."

"Shakers and Movers?" Seville questioned.  "What kinda stupid name is that for a movin' company?  You shake up all the boxes of stuff you move?"

"When required, yes," the weasel replied.  "You'd be surprised how many peeps out there require a good shaking up when moving."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Seville told him, "and believe you me, I've heard some pretty stupid stuff.  You've met my brother, haven't you?"  Seville pointed to Andy.

"HEY!" Andy yelled.  "There's no need to insult the fur-sibs."  He extended a paw to the moving company weasel.  "But since you're here, YES.  Yes, we definitely require your services.   My brother has like a dozen of these enormous jack o'lanterns needing to be moved about before the neighbourhood Hallowe'en decorating contest judging begins."

The weasel made some mental calculations.  Or rather, the weasel made some calculations, counting on his fingers, then scribbled a figure on his clipboard.  Thrusting the scribbled upon paper in Seville's face, he declared, "Here."

"What the mouses is this?" asked Seville.

"My estimate."

Seville's jaw dropped.  "Eleven hundred and...  MOUSES!  That's highway robbery, that is.  I'm not payin'..."

Andy thrust a piece of plastic into the weasel's paw.  "Use this."

"Andy!" and Seville hauled his brother back.  "We can't pay out that kinda money.  The peep will absolutely freak."

Anderson narrowed his eyes.  "Well I'm not moving any more of your silly orange pumpkins around the yard on my own, Seville.  They're way too heavy.  These weasels specialise in moving things about."

"More like they specialise in shakin' things up," Seville said, gritting his teeth.  "Didn't you hear what he said about the shakin'?"

Andy pressed his lips together, adamantly.

 "FINE.  But YOU'RE gonna have to explain the bill to the peep.  MOUSES!" and Seville started drawing a garden plan so that the weasels would know exactly where to place the pumpkins.  Looking up, he said, "I need these moved within the hour.  Judging starts at noon."

The weasel nodded sharply.  Blowing on the whistle that had been hanging around his neck, the van's back door popped open and out popped...

Yes, you heard that correctly.

Out POPPED the weasels.  Five of them, to be exact.  Seville shook his head in disgust and gave Andy a dirty look.  Paying no attention to his brother's irritation, Andy shrugged his shoulders and lay down for a little nap.

At five minutes to twelve, Seville sauntered out of the house to check on the weasels' progress, carrying a large niptini and a pawful of snacks.  "Oohhhh..  This is gonna be good," he grinned.  "We are SO GONNA WIN..."  Stopping in his tracks, he looked around the front yard in dismay, ignoring the sound of glass shattering as he dropped his niptini on the brick pathway.

"WHAT THE MOUSES HAVE YOU DONE?" Seville cried.  "I MEAN, WHAT THE MOUSES HAVE YOU NOT DONE?  It's five minutes 'til judgin' starts and not a single one of these pumpkins has been moved!"

"But each and every one has been shaken," sneered the head weasel.  Thrusting an official looking piece of paper in Seville's face he added, "See?  Right here.  The contact states that...  Hmmm...  Yes, here...  Pumpkins.  Shaken.  Moving not required."

"BUT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE A MOVIN' COMPANY!" Seville wailed.

The weasel simply smiled.  "Moving and shaking company, remember?  Our contract..."

"I DIDN'T SIGN THAT!  I DID NOT SIGN ANY STUPID MOUSED-UP CONTRACT.  I..."

"Your brother signed," and the weasel's smile became malevolent, "right there on the dotted line.  See?"

Seville snatched the contract out of the weasel's hand.  "ANDY!!!"

Andy woke with a start.  "You looking for me, Sivvers?"

Seville growled.  Turning back to the weasel he said, "I don't care what Andy did or did not sign.  You're gonna get these pumpkins moved into place, and you're gonna get 'em moved, NOW.  MOUSES!"

Just then, a trio of well-dressed peeps came walking down the path leading to Seville's front door.  The female peep looked about the yard, tsking and muttering about the mess.  The two male peeps whispered to one another, questioning whether or not they had the right address.  "They appear to be completely unprepared," Seville heard one of them say.

"But..."  Seville began.  "WAIT!  Please wait, your royal...  Honoured?  Yes, your HONOURED judges.  PLEASE wait.  Pretty please?  Pretty please with nip on top?  We've met up with a slight, UNEXPECTED snafu, you see."  He watched as the female peep lifted one foot to find pumpkin seeds and guts dripping from her shoe.

"Here, let me fix that," and Seville grabbed hold of Andy's tail, using it to wipe the pumpkin guts off the shoe.  "I must have missed those when I cleaned up..."

The female peep raised an eyebrow.  "This has been cleaned up?" she questioned.  "What did it look like BEFORE?"

"It...  Uh...  Um..." Seville sputtered.

The head weasel stepped between Seville and the three judges.  "Wilton Weston Weasel from Shakers and Movers Moving - a subsidiary company, wholly owned and operated by the Weasel Syndicate - at your service," he said, thrusting out one hand.  "I assume you've already been to the house down the street?  The house owned by Wesley Weston?  MY BROTHER?" and he glanced over at Seville, sneering.

"Ah yes," answered one of the male judges.  "And a VERY FINE decorating job that was.  EXCELLENT work, unlike..." and he looked about Seville's yard.

Seville sat back on his haunches and let out a loud sigh.

"SEVILLE!" someone hollered with a piercing shriek.  Flinging open the front door, Peep #1 stood there and yelled once more.  "SEVILLE!  What have you done with the pumpkin I left on the kitchen counter?  I'm in the middle of baking..."

Peep #1 stopped short at the sight of the three judges.  She stood there, her apron askew and covered with flour, her hair half in and half out of its pony tail, and bits of pastry stuck to her clothing and face.  "Oh, hello..." and she held out a hand.  A bit of egg shell that had been sticking to her palm fell to the ground.

"ARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" the judges screamed in unison.  "IT'S FRANKENSTEIN'S WIFE!!!"  Turning on their heels, they ran as fast as they could, away from Seville and Peep #1.  And off in the distance Seville could hear, "YOU WIN, Seville the Cat.  That's the scariest sight anyone has ever seen."

Seville smiled to himself as he walked up to the peep.  "Thanks, Peepers.  I appreciate the...  Uh...  Hmmm..." and he picked a piece of pastry off the peep's apron.  "Mmmm...  You need a taste taster for that pie you're bakin'?  MMMM...."

With their plot to win the neighbourhood Hallowe'en decorating contest foiled, the weasels slumped their shoulders and slowly shuffled off to their van.  "Maybe next year," one of them sighed.  "Who knew we'd ever have to compete with a sight as scary as that?"  The other weasels all visibly shuddered.  And before turning to head indoors, Seville waved goodbye to the weasels, and cried...

the Hallowe'en Ball

"Awww...  MOUSES!  Who is that blockin' my driveway?  And I was just gonna send the peep out on a treat run."

Looking out his office window, Seville leaned forward to get a better look at the large, orange object in the driveway.  "Hmmm...  A better question might be, WHAT is that blockin' the driveway?  MOUSES!"

"HEY ANDY!  YOU ORDER AN ORANGE CAR ON E-BAY OR SOMETHIN'?"

"Well I'm not gonna just sit here and do nothin'.  I'm gonna head on out there, and tell whomever is drivin' that  thing, to get their moused-up, orange vehicle outta my way."  Slamming the door on his way out, Seville stomped down the driveway.  "Hope it's not some kinda clown car," he murmured to himself.  "Those things freak me out.  MOUSES!"

Considering the possibility of a carload of clowns sitting in his driveway, Seville approached the orange object with trepidation.  "They had best not jump out at me," he muttered.  "Nothin' worse than a bunch of clowns, jumpin' out at you, and..."

"WHAT THE MOUSES?"  Seville stopped in his tracks at the sight before his eyes.  There, in his very own driveway, was his sister, Mason, chatting away with a couple of weasels, undoubtedly sent by the Weasel Syndicate.  "Mason, why, pray tell, are you cavortin' with weasels?  MOUSES!"

Mason rolled her eyes.  "We're not cavorting, Seville.  We're just finishing up a little business," and with that, she pawed a piece of plastic over to one of the vermin.

"That had better not be the peep's credit card, Mason.  Peep #1 said we were to stop usin' it when dealing with unsavoury characters."  One of the weasels raised an eyebrow.  "Yeah, you heard me right," Seville sneered.  "YOU are an unsavoury character, for sure."

"OH-KAY..." and Mason turned back to the weasels.  Smiling, she held out a paw.  "Looks like we're all done here.  As always, it was a pleasure doing business with you."

After vigorously shaking Mason's outreached paw, the lead weasel turned toward the other, and together, they scurried down the driveway, chuckling away to themselves.

"Are you serious, Mason?  Doin' business with the Syndicate?  Givin' them money?  For this...  This...  THIS..."  Seville narrowed his eyes.  "What the mouses is this, anyway?  It looks like a pumpkin, to me."

"That's because it is a pumpkin, Seville.  I am now the proud owner of one giant-sized, orange pumpkin.  Isn't it beautiful?"

"It's a pumpkin.  A pumpkin, Mason.  A PUMPKIN!  WHAT THE MOUSES ARE YOU DOIN', BUYING A GIANT-SIZED PUMPKIN?  When this thing starts to rot, it's gonna attract rats and mice, for sure."

"Mice!" and Mason snapped her claws.  "I need mice.  Now, where's the best place to look for a couple of mice?  Seville, you have some mouse friends.  Where do they usually hang out?"

"And they say I'M the weird one."

"Who says you're weird, Seville?"

"Well you, for starters.  Mason, I'll repeat my question.  What the mouses are you doin', buying a giant-sized pumpkin?  And why the mouses are you searchin' through the compost pile now?"  He held up a paw.  "Don't tell me.  You're lookin' for mice.  Of course.  MOUSES!"

Mason turned toward her brother.  Holding up a small mouse by its tail, a broad smile formed across her face.  "Hold onto this," she instructed Seville.  "I need one more."

Now holding the mouse himself, Seville looked at it closely.  "Is that you, Norman?"  The mouse shook his head and squeaked out a negative reply.

Moments later, Mason returned with a second mouse.  She tucked its tail under one of her hind legs, and taking back the first mouse from Seville, she tucked its tail under her other hind leg, leaving her front paws free to rub them together with glee.  "I'm almost all set!  This is going to be great."

Shaking his head, Seville let out a long sigh.  "Sisters.  MOUSES!"

As if in reply, the mice squeaked in unison.

"I don't need any help from you two," Seville told the mice.  "You, on the other paw, might need some help from me."

The mice nodded in agreement.

"Mason, Mason, Mason...  WHAT THE MOUSES ARE YOU PLANNING NOW?"

"It's the Hallowe'en Ball, Seville.  The Hallowe'en Ball!" and a far-off look crossed Mason's face.  "This year is MY year to win first place for the best costume at the Hallowe'en Ball.  I'm going as Cinderella, in case you hadn't yet figured it out."

"Cinderella?" Seville squawked.  "Ah, I see it now.  The pumpkin that turns into a carriage.  The mice - they're the pawmen or somethin', right?  All you need now, is a Prince Charming."

"No, Seville.  All I need now, is a knife."

"A knife?  You're gonna stab Prince Charming?  You're goin' to the ball as a murderous Cinderella?  Like that guy in the movies with the hockey mask and stuff?  You're gonna turn a lovely fairy tail into a horror story, Mason?  Again I must question why they call ME the weird one. MOUSES!"

"You are weird, Seville.  I need a knife to carve the pumpkin.  I need to carve it into a carriage, because it's not like I have a fairy godmother with a magic wand to do it for me."

"You could always ask the peep for help," suggested Seville.

"I can do this myself," and with that, Mason ran into the house.  Moments later, she returned with a carving knife in tow.

Mason walked around the pumpkin several times, examining it carefully.  Seville and the two mice watched her, shaking their heads in dismay.  Every now and then Mason would let out an "Uh-huh," or a "Hmmm..." under her breath.  Finally, she stopped in her tracks and declared, "I think I shall begin carving right here."  Holding the knife high with both front paws, she brought it down, stabbing the pumpkin with a mighty thrust.

Pssssssstttttttttttt.............

Right before their eyes, the pumpkin let out a loud swoosh of air, and slowly began to deflate.

"NOOOOO!!!!!!!!" Mason screamed.

"This is what happens when you do business with weasels, Mason.  Those vermin sold you a lemon."

One of the mice tugged on Seville's fur.  The cat bent down so that the mouse could whisper in his ear.  "You're right, there, little feller.  They didn't sell her a lemon.  I think it was some sort of round, inflatable thing."  The mouse nodded his head in agreement.

"WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?" Mason wailed.  "The ball is on Tuesday.  It's too late to come up with another costume.  Ohhhhhh...." she sobbed.  "This is the going to be the WORST Hallowe'en, EVER," and stomping her paws, she wailed a little more.

"It's not the end of the world there, Sis.  There'll be other Hallowe'en Balls.  There'll be other..."

"Wait a minute," and Mason grabbed Seville by the whiskers.  "YOU'RE orange."

"Yeah, but I'm not a pumpkin, Mason.  Don't be silly.  Don't be..."  Seville stopped mid-sentence.  "Mason...  I'm not liking that look on your face."

                                            **************************************

"Of all the moused-up, stupid ideas.  I will NEVER live this down.  I'm gonna be the laughing stock of the neighbourhood.  I'm gonna be..."

"Shhhh..." hissed Mason.  "Carriages aren't supposed to talk."

Into the ballroom strode Seville, with the two mice - now dressed in costumes suitable for footmen -  perched on top of his head, right between his ears.  And there was Mason, sitting on his back, wearing glass slippers on her paws, and a sparkling emerald collar around her neck.

"How you ever talked me into this," Seville grumbled, "I'll never know.  And starting first thing tomorrow morning, Mason, YOU, my dear sister, are goin' on a diet.  MOUSES!"

the Hallowe'en visitor

"I'm comin', I'm comin'. No need to get your knickers in a twist. MOUSES!"  Reaching the front door, Seville swung it open only to find a ghostly apparition hovering over the welcome mat.  "Hmmm... I'm bettin' you're not wearin' any knickers to twist.  Hehehehehee... What can I do you for? Hallowe'en isn't 'til tomorrow, you know."

"Woooooooooo... Woooooooooo.... WOOOOOOOOOO..." the ghostly apparition answered.

"Like I said, Hallowe'en isn't 'til tomorrow so uh...  Um...  Scat!"

The ghost didn't move.

Seville leaned forward until he was nose to nose - or whatever ghosts have in the middle of their faces - with the apparition, took a deep breath and yelled, "BOO!"  With a puff of smoke, the ghost vanished into thin air.  Seville smiled, congratulating himself on a job well done.  Then he closed the door.

"Who was that?" Seville's sister, Mason, asked.

"No one important.  Just some gho...  MOUSES!  Mason, it was a ghost.  A real live ghost was standin' out there at our front door."

"There's no such thing."  Mason grabbed a cat treat from the Hallowe'en treat bag sitting by the door which Peep #1 had filled with the cats' favourite treats a few days earlier.  "There's no such thing as a real live ghost, Sivvers."

"Is so."

With a loud sigh, Mason explained.  "If they're real ghosts, they've gotta be dead.  If they're alive, they're not real.  At least not real ghosts.  That was probably just some kid dressed up like a ghost for Hallowe'en."

"No way, sis," and Seville shook his head vehemently.  "Whoever that was, he was hoverin' like a ghost.  Hoverin'!  As in...  Like...  Like not touchin' the ground.  Kiddies dressed up for Hallowe'en can't do that.  Plus, when I yelled at him, he vanished into thin air.  Vanished!  He didn't run off or anythin' like that.  He just went poof!" and he snapped his claws together for emphasis.

"Then it must have been a real dead ghost I guess," and Mason grabbed another treat from the bag.  She popped it into her mouth, spun on her paws, and headed back into the kitchen.

"Oh Seville...  Oh Seville...  OH SEVILLE..."  Mason called from the kitchen, her cries getting louder by the second.

"What's up?" Seville asked as he trotted around the corner.  He stopped dead in his tracks.  Hovering next to the kitchen table was a ghostly apparition.

Mason turned to look at Seville, Seville turned to look at Mason, and together, they cried, "MOUSES!"

"Told you there was a real live ghost at the door," Seville said smugly.  Mason raised an eyebrow.  "Fine.  A real live dead ghost, then.  Mouses."

Seville approached the ghost and tapped him on the shoulder, but his paw went right through the apparition without eliciting any response from the ghost.  "Why don't you take a load off there? Have a seat, why don't ya."

"On second thought, maybe you can't."  Seville peered under the ghost.  Where there should have been legs and feet, there was nothing at all.  "Hmmm...  I don't think you can sit without legs and feet.  I guess all you can do is that uh, hovering thing."

Seville sat back on his haunches to think.  He scratched behind an ear.  "How do you suppose he got in here?  I didn't invite him.  I told him to scat.  I even yelled Boo at him.  You know, to scare him off.  He must have rematerialised here in our kitchen after his little vanishing act at the front door.  Kind of rude, if you ask me.  A little presumptuous, too."

"Woooooooooooooooo...  Wooooooooooooooooo....  WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..." the ghost cried eerily.

"And he doesn't have much of a vocabulary, either," Seville added.

Mason chewed at a claw. "I wonder why he's here. As you said earlier, he can't be trick-or-treating yet as Hallowe'en isn't until tomorrow.  Plus, he doesn't have anything like a bag, or a pumpkin, in which to collect his goodies.  There must be some rea..."

"BOO!" Seville yelled at the ghost, and once again, it vanished into thin air.

"What did you do that for?" asked Mason.

"Wanted to see if it would work again.  Apparently it did," and he smiled smugly.

"It didn't actually work the first time," Mason reminded her brother.  "He vanished from the front door only to reappear in the kitchen,"

"Oh yeah...  You suppose he's somewhere else in our house now?" Seville asked his sister.

"Only time will tell.  In the meantime, I'm going to grab another treat from that treat bag at the door. Once Anderson finds out the peep filled it with cat treats, there won't be any left."

"Yeah, and I'm gonna go work on today's blog post.  I wanna write about somethin' spooky as tomorrow is Hallowe'en,"  Seville sauntered into his office.  Moments later he cried, "MASON!  You had better get in here.  Quick!"

"Whatever is the matter?  Oh," and she stopped in her tracks.  "I see.  Your ghost friend has reappeared in your office."

"He's not exactly my friend," Seville scowled.  "But he's hoverin' over by my desk and by my computer.  MOUSES!  Plus, he appears to have turned it on.  As he has no feet. I'm assuming he has no hands, either.  Or paws for that matter.  How the mouses did he turn on the computer?"

"Probably some sort of manipulation of an electric field," Mason explained, very matter-of-factly.

"Hmmph!  Can't sit on a chair but can turn on my computer.  MOUSES!"  Seville approached his desk and peered at the computer screen, reading what was displayed before him.  "What the mouses?  This could totally ruin my reputation.  Totally.  TOTALLY.  Awww...  MOUSES!" and Seville swayed unsteadily, from side to side, before falling to the floor in a dead faint.

"Seville, are you okay?  Seville?  SEVILLE?"

Seville opened his eyes, fluttering his eyelashes.  "Is that you, sis?  Mason?"

Taking his paw in hers, Mason answered in soothing tones, "I'm right here, Seville.  What happened?  What scared you like that?"

"Read it for yourself," Seville sniffed, weakly pointing a paw toward the computer screen.  "READ IT AND WEEP!" he howled.

Mason's jaw dropped as she read the screen.

WANTED:  Full-time ghostwriter for the award-winning blog, Nerissa's Life.  Position to be filled immediately.  Standard remuneration package offered.  Apply directly at Seville the Cat's house, or call 902-555-0000.

"Peeps will think I don't write my own blog!" Seville wailed.  "They'll think I've been lyin' all this time.  Only sayin' I write all my own stuff.  Why, they'll think I don't even know my own phone number!  MOUSES!!!"

"Not know your own phone number?" questioned Mason.  "Seville...  You're right."

"I know I'm right!  Wait a minute.  Exactly what am I right about?" he asked his sister.

"That's not our phone number.  Let's see whose it is, shall we?" and Mason picked up the telephone and dialled the number in the ad.

Hello.  You have reached the Weasel Syndicate.  If you know the extension of the weasel you are calling, please dial now.  To speak to a customer service weasel, call back during our hours of operation: 9pm to 7am, Monday to Friday.  Thank you  for choosing the Weasel Syndicate for all your weaselly needs.

"Why those...  Those...  Those dastardly weaselly little weasels," Seville sneered, rising to his paws.  "That's it. They've done it this time.  I'm gonna get those weasels and I'm gonna get 'em, for sure.  MOUSES!"

"There'll be plenty of time to deal with them later.  First, I think we need to deal with that other little problem on our paws.  You know...  Him," and Mason pointed toward the ghost still hovering by Seville's desk.

"Oh yeah.  Hmmm...  Got it!" and Seville snapped his claws again.

Seville approached the ghost.  "Excuse me my little ghostly friend.  I'm afraid that position has already been filled.  However, if I am to understand correctly, I believe there are several vacant positions available over at the Weasel Syndicate's head offices.  Let me get you their address."

"Don't you think you should explain to your little friend here about uh...  Well...  About what ghostwriters actually are?  What they do?" Mason hissed in Seville's ear.

"Nah," Seville hissed back.  "We'll let the weasels explain that."

Seville presented the wannabe ghostwriter with the Weasel Syndicate's business address and public contact information, along with a list of the syndicate's Board of Directors, complete with their private e-mail addresses, home addresses and phone numbers.  After the ghost read everything, he turned to look at the cats. Seville was sure he noticed a nod of thanks, although truth be told, it's very difficult to tell if a ghost is nodding or not, as ghosts don't actually have necks with which to nod.  Moments later, the ghost vanished into thin air.

Feeling that the ghost was now gone for good, the two cats sighed big sighs of relief.  Mason headed to the front door to grab another cat treat from the bag of treats, while Seville settled in at his computer.  Resting an elbow on his desk he muttered to himself, "Now what on earth can I write about for Hallowe'en?  MOUSES!"


                               HAPPY HALLOWE'EN!

and now, the conclusion

Previously on Nerissa's Life...  The door swung open with a loud creak. From what the cats could see, there was no one on the other side.  At that very moment, a streak of lightening lit up the evening sky and a loud piercing scream could be heard, emanating from within the house.

"OH MY MOUSES!" Seville screeched, leaping straight up into the air and landing on the branch of a nearby tree. "Don't just stand there, Mason.  Take cover!"

Mason stood motionless by the door, seemingly frozen in terror.  Seville knew he couldn't leave his sister alone to fend off whatever horrible beasts might be in the house.  He jumped down next to her.  "Mason," he hissed, "you were right.  We can let Peep #1 pick up my October whisk in the morning.  Come on;  let's go."

Waving Seville off with a paw Mason chanted to herself.  "There are no such things as ghosts. There are no such things as ghosts.  There are no such things as ghosts."

"GHOSTS!  You think there are ghosts in that there house?  I thought it was merely some horribly scary monster with a sore throat.  Ghosts are way worse than monsters, Mason.  COME ON... Let's go," and Seville tugged on Mason's paw.

"Seville," Mason turned to her brother, "did that screech not sound familiar to you?"

Seville thought about it for a minute before snapping his claws.  "Of course!  Sounded just like the peep when she practices her caterwauling.  Awww...  silly me.  Nothing scary about the peep caterwauling."

"Really?" and Mason raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, let me rephrase that.  The peep's caterwauling is very scary but not in a ghostly or monsterly kind of way.  Totally different kind of scary, for sure."

Mason nodded in agreement.  "Come on Seville.  Let's check out this house and pick up your whisk."

The two cats entered the house, gingerly.  With each step, floorboards moaned and creaked.  "You think the peep is here?" Seville whispered.  "Here in this house, caterwauling?"

Another loud scream tore through the air and the cats froze, too scared to even breath.  After a minute or two, Mason extricated Seville's claws from her fur and Seville gasped for air.  "Sounds like the peep is that way," Mason said, pointing down a long hallway.  "But what I don't understand is why Peep #1 is even here in the first place.  It doesn't make sense at all."

"Could she be in some kind of trouble?" asked Seville.  "Could the Whisk-of-the-Month Club people have kidnapped her or something?"

"Actually, I'm beginning to question the legitimacy of this whole Whisk-of-the-Month Club, Seville.  I mean, what kind of outfit operates a business from a place like this?"

The chandelier hanging from the ceiling began to sputter and within moments, the room in which they stood was thrown into complete darkness.  Moments later, lightening flashed outside and lit the evening sky.  Light poured into the house and for a very brief moment, Seville was sure he saw movement ahead.  "Over there!  Could that be the peep?"  But the light from the electrical storm lasted only moments and the house became dark, once more.

Suddenly, two by two, candles hanging on the walls of the looming hallway flickered to life.  "Looks like we're supposed to go that way," Mason whispered.  "I think we're supposed to follow the lights," and she took a step forward.

Seville grabbed his sister by the tail.  "Mason, there's no one lighting those candles."

Mason shrugged.  "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for that.

"Well I'm sure there isn't."  Feeling a tap on his right shoulder, Seville spun around, ready to chastise Mason for trying to scare him.  "Don't do..." he began, before realizing that moments before, Mason had been standing in front of him.  "Uh Mason..."

But now, Mason was nowhere to be seen.

Seville stood at the end of the hallway.  He gulped, hard, trying to swallow his fears.  "There are no such things as ghosts," he chanted, softly.  "There are no such things as ghosts.  There are no such things as ghosts."

As if on cue, a ghostly apparition appeared before Seville,  It hovered for a few minutes, its glowing, piercing eyes staring right at him.  Staring at him and through him, both at the same time.  And then as suddenly as it had appeared, the apparition vanished.

On Seville's left, a door creaked open and Mason appeared.  Seville grabbed his sister and hugged her tightly.  "What happened to you?  Are you okay?" he asked.

"Get off me, Seville," and Mason pushed away her brother.  "I had to use the litter box.  Give a girl a little privacy, huh?  MOUSES!"

Seville glanced up at the door through which Mason had exited and sure enough, there was a little plaque depicting a girl cat and a litter box.

"Okay..." Seville began, "but Mason, you'll never guess what I just saw.  It was kind of white, transparent and able to float."

"Seville, there are no such things as ghosts," Mason scoffed.

A loud scream pieced the air once more.  Louder now and even more unearthly sounding than before.

"Come on," and Mason tugged at Seville's fur.  "We need to find out what is at the end of this hall."

Seville dug his claws into the floorboards, refusing to budge.  Mason tugged at him, only causing Seville to dig his claws in, further.  Putting all her weight behind her efforts, with one final tug, she pulled Seville free.  Together, they catapulted forward and did so with such momentum that the two cats landed hard against the door at the end of the hallway.  The door flew open, causing Mason and Seville to stumble into the room.

There before them stood a small table with an old-fashioned tape recorder lying on it.  Surrounding the table, several weasels were rolling around on the floor in fits of laughter. "This is too funny!" and "Did you see the looks on the cats' faces?" they squealed with delight.

"WEASELS!" Mason hollered, placing her front paws on her hips.

"The Weasel Syndicate?" Seville cried. "MOUSES!"

The weasels continued to roll around on the floor, laughing uncontrollably.  "This is the best Hallowe'en prank ever," one of them declared.

Seville felt the fur on his tail starting to puff in anger.  "Why you..." he began to growl.

"Oh come now," and one of the weasels climbed to his feet.  "You've got to admit it, Seville.  This was good."

"I'll admit to nothing," declared Seville.  "Nothing at all."

Mason pawed her way over to the table and clicked the play button on the tape recorder.  Sure enough, the sound of Peep #1 caterwauling echoed throughout the room.  "You got the peep on tape," she murmured before asking, "How did you get the candles in the hallway to light themselves so mysteriously?"

"They might look like real candles," one weasel answered, "but actually, they're electric.  I just flicked a switch from in here."

"What about the ghost I saw?" asked Seville.  "How did you manage that?  How did you get him to float around like that?  Some sort of hologram or something?"

"Ghost?" one weasel replied, questioningly.

"Holograms?" asked another.

"Yeah, the ghost that appeared before me in the hallway when Mason was using the litter box," answered Seville.

"SEVILLE!" Mason spat at her brother.  "They don't need to know I was using..."

Mason's admonishment of Seville was cut short by one weasel as he said, "Cat, we didn't have any ghost effects.  We didn't, did we?" he asked the other weasels with a little less assuredness.  The weasels all shook their heads.

"But I..." and Seville turned to point down the hallway where the ghost had appeared before him.

At that very moment, the ghostly apparition appeared once more.  It hovered in the hallway, a foot or so off the ground.  The weasels' eyes grew large with fear as did the cats'.

"A GHOST!" screamed one of the weasels.

"It's real!" yelled another.

"It's approaching!" hollered a third.

"Oh no you don't," and Mason wagged a claw at the weasels.  "You're not tricking us again." Turning to Seville Mason said,  "We're not falling for that, are we Seville."

But all Mason could see of Seville was the tip of his tail as he fled through an open window. Another flash of lightening lit up the evening air and Mason could see the weasels out in front of Seville, running as quickly as their little weaselly paws would carry them.  She looked back at the ghost and saw that it was, in fact, approaching.

"WAIT FOR ME!" Mason yelled, before jumping through the window and tearing after her brother.

Once caught up with Seville and at a safe distance from the house, Mason and her brother stopped and looked back.  Light now poured through all its windows.  From one window, several ghostly apparitions could be seen.  They appeared to be saying something.  The cats turned their ears to listen carefully.  Carried over the cold, misty air, Seville and Mason were sure they heard a ghostly cry of...