Page 13 of Ella’s Data

“Diabolical,” she snickers. “I’m sure Thelma can help us find stuff to create a surgical suite as well. Just make me a list and I’ll call her later.”

“Will do. Now, let me show you what Paul and his cronies created,” I say, leading her to the last room which usually elicits screams from the males in the crowd.

I open the door and she sees the coffins, only right now, they’re empty. “So, the actors will be in various stages of decomposition, and we’ll even have this hideous scent in the room to reflect that and as people walk through, they’ll be grabbed at while the actors yell out things nobody should know, calling the attendees out by name. It was fucking hysterical last year, because a lot of Paul’s friends are retired and hang out in the diner and at the barber shop. They hear all the gossip and use that to call out people. Nothing malicious, of course, but it’s funny to see a teenaged boy running from the house screaming while asking how the corpse knew what he did.”

“Like I said, y’all are diabolical and as long as I don’t have to step foot in here, which I will remind you I refuse to do, I’m here for it. I think I’ll enjoy being on the kiddy side.”

“I think they’re adding a few things for the interactive part from what Ash indicated,” I say.

“Like what?” she asks.

“Well, they cooked spaghetti last year so when a kid stuck their hand in the box, it felt like guts. This year, they’re adding warm scrambled eggs to the mix, so it feels like busted guts.”

“Get me out of here. I think I deserve ice cream after being terrorized,” she teases.

“Then we’ll go get ice cream,” I decree with a snicker as I take her hand in mine to head back downstairs.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Ella

“Fee, did you realize that all of the men in this club are crazy?” I ask my best friend.

Data dropped me off because he needed to run to the clubhouse, but promised he’d be back and take me to my RV later.

“Why would you say such a thing?” she teases, grinning at me.

“Have you gone through the haunted house?” I question.

“Nope, and not gonna either,” she replies. “I heard all about it from Holly and Marnie. At most, I’ll be on the other side helping with the little kids.”

“Well, it scared me and the lights were all on. I can only imagine what it’s like when it’s dark, the fog machine is going, the creepy noises are playing, and there are actors portraying scary people,” I admit.

“Do you know what they did with the money last year?” she asks.

“I didn’t think to ask,” I reply.

“They helped families who were struggling with the upcoming holidays. Not only that, but because it was so successful, Esther and her friends put together boxes for Thanksgiving and Christmas for those same families! They had more than enough to prepare holiday meals last year. I hope they do the same thing this year,” she admits.

“I’ll ask Data later, I guess,” I tell her. “Because that sounds like a worthwhile idea to me.”

“Me too. Now, you mentioned you were going to reach out to Thelma to see if she could help you find the medical supplies they want for the two new rooms?”

“Yeah, from how Data described it, it’s going to be creepy as hell, too,” I reply. “Honestly, if I wasn’t such a chickenshit, I’d probably offer to be the crazy nurse ghost who is operating on people with a chainsaw. But I can’t do it because I’d have to walk by the wailing sisters and see the grim reaper.”

“This is coming from a woman who regularly watches Supernatural and Tales From the Crypt, you do realize that, right?” she asks.

“First of all, Sam and Dean are not scary, they’re yummy. It’s easy to overlook the supernatural events they’re up against in each episode. Secondly, the Cryptkeeper is only slightly spooky, and I watch that when it’s daylight,” I retort.

“Then you resort to sleeping with your bedside lamp on and your gun underneath the pillow,” she rebuts.

“And? What’s your point? I’m a single woman living by myself in what amounts to a tin can on wheels. It pays to be prepared at all times,” I chide.

She’s clutching her chest and laughing so hard, I can’t understand what she’s trying to say. When she finally calms down, she says, “Keep telling yourself that, girlie.”

“Oh, I hear Colleen crying!” I exclaim as I jump up and head to the nursery.