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!

how long was that nap?

No...  NO.  It's can't be.  It's not possible.  Surely I couldn't have missed three whole months.  For how long did I sleep?  How long was that nap?  MOUSES!

The other night, that's exactly what I was wonderin'.  Did I really nap right through the months of August, September and October?  How the mouses did I do that?

I raced over to the kitchen calender and leapt straight up into the air, takin' only a moment to glance at the page that was showin'.  Nope, still July.  WHEW! Thank goodness for that 'cause for a moment there, I was thinkin' that my most recent catnap had turned into an extended, three-month sojourn.  MOUSES!

But...  But if it was still July, why was Peep #1 wanderein' around outside in a ghost costume?  Why was she walkin' down the street lookin' like that?  Why was she headin' over to the neighbours' house lookin' like she was all dressed up for Hallowe'en and ready to ask 'em for some candy? WHY?

I've heard of Christmas in July but Hallowe'en?  Hallowe'en in July?  That's crazy talk, that is. Crazier than a squirrel makin' nut pies.  MOUSES!

Hmmm...  But perhaps the peep had gone crazy on me.  It was possible.  In fact, she has been known so say that we cats drive her crazy.  Nah...  couldn't be that.   Firstly, I don't have a driver's licence and secondly, my paws can't reach the gas pedals in the car.  Obviously, I'm not capable of drivin' Ol' Peepers anywhere.  If anyone is drivin' anyone crazy, it's the peep driving me.  MOUSES!

Let's assume that Peep #1 was not crazy.  I know, big assumption but let's assume it anyway. Let's also assume that she wasn't goin' trick-or-treatin' in July 'cause really,  there's no such thing as trick-or-treatin' in July.  What's more, she wasn't carryin' a pillowcase or plastic pumpkin or anything else Hallowe'enish in which to carry her loot.  Assumin' those things, the question still begs to be asked...  Why-oh-why was Ol' Peepers wanderin' around the streets dressed up like a ghost, well past midnight?  It's a valid question, for sure.

But maybe that wasn't a ghost costume after all.  Maybe that was her nightdress.

Okay, new question.  Why-oh-why was Ol' Peepers wandering around the neighbourhood in her nightdress in the middle of the night?  MOUSES!

Turns out, it was all Tess' fault.  Okay, ninety-five percent Tess' fault and five percent Seville's.  Let me explain.

Sometime after midnight, the other night, my brother Seville was still outside.  Peep #1 called and called and called for him but either he didn't hear her or he chose to ignore her.  Either is possible.  Sivvers' hearing is pretty good but somewhat selective.  Also, when the peeps call us after midnight, they have to do so in their quiet voices on account of the neighbours' bein' asleep and whatnot.  It's hard for cats with selective hearin' to hear peeps callin' them, in their quiet voices.  I know this from personal experience.

So after callin' and callin' and callin' for my brother, the peep decided she would head on out and go lookin' for him.  Of course, my sister Tess thought that she should accompany the peep and uh.. um...  help.  Yeah, I think that's she called it.

Well Peep #1 was havin' nothin' to do with that.  She apparently didn't need my sister Tess' help so Tess was unceremoniously dumped in the livin' room and the livin' room door was shut behind her. She was trapped.

Peep #1 put on some shoes and headed on outside.  Of course, she was dressed in her nightgown 'cause it was after midnight and peeps are supposed to be in bed at such hours, before their carriages turn into pumpkins and their horses, mice.  Mice?  MOUSES!

Anywho...  Peep #1 headed on down the driveway, all the while callin' Seville's name.  No answer. Eventually, she turned back to come inside but there, approaching from the direction of the house, appeared the shape of a cat.  Ol' Peepers was ecstatic.  Seville had appeared!

Scratch that.  Upon closer inspection - in other words, when said cat got closer - the first peep realised that the cat approaching her was not Seville at all.  It was Tess.  Yes, it was my sister Tess.  You know, my sister who had been locked in the livin' room with no way to escape.

I don't know what it is about Tess but she must have weird bones or joints or something 'cause that cat can wriggle through spaces far too small for any normal cat to be wrigglin' through.  The livin' room window was only open a few inches.  Maybe three.  Four tops but I'm thinkin' it was more like three.  How the mouses did she get her head through that, never mind the rest of her body?

So Tess approached the peep and walked right past her.  Yup, she just kept on walkin'.

Peep #1 had no choice but to turn around and follow my sister Tess.  She followed her down the driveway, right to its end.  Then she followed her down the road.  Then she followed her across the road, all the while callin' Tess in her well-past-midnight, quiet voice.

Of course, Tess ignored the peep.  Like my brother Seville, Tess' hearin' is also rather selective.

At some point however, Tess stopped at the end of a neighbours' driveway to have a good roll around in the gritty, sandy stuff that tends to collect at ends of driveways.  The first peep seized this opportunity to swoop in and scoop Tess up into her arms, before luggin' her back home.

Tess was not pleased, to say the least.  She complained all the way and she was NOT usin' her well-past-midnight, quiet voice.  You should have heard the growls.  Bet you did.  Bet they were heard around the world.  Maybe even all the way to the moon.  MOUSES!

Anywho...  Suffice it to say, the first peep has not decided to start up some weird kind of holiday called Hallowe'en in July.  She was not out trick-or-treating and she was not dressed up like a ghost.  She was, however, out wanderin' the streets in the middle of the night in her nightgown.  When Hallowe'en does arrive, I shall suggest that she uses that as her costume.  I'm sure it will scare even the bravest of mice. Mice?  MOUSES!

And Seville did arrive home on the doorstep very shortly after the peep came inside with Tess.  There he was, sitting there, like nothin' had happened.  Nothin' at all.  Completely oblivious to the havoc he had caused.

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By the way, VOTIN' for the Petties Awards is still goin' on.  You can vote once a day, EVERY DAY, from now until August 7th.  Won't you please vote for me?  I'd really appreciate it a lot.  purrs