Originally Answered: Re: spending the night in a haunted house, can you write a little story and use 6 of these lines,just 4 fun?
THE HAUNTED HOTEL WEEKEND GET AWAY
"Hi!" Kitty here. “I WONDER WHAT OTHER PEOPLE DO ON THEIR VACATIONS that could be possibly any more exciting than staying in a haunted house overnight?” I mused to myself, as I perused the invitation for “The Haunted Hotel Weekend Get Away.” It promised thrills and chills for all. I could hardly wait! Who knows? There may even be an invisible man inside my bed!!
“If there’s something strange in your neighborhood -- Who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters!!” I sang merrily. I wonder if my friend, Mrs. Peacock, might like to go with me? I’ll just call her and see.
“Ring! Ring!” sounded the telephone. “Hello,” answered a familiar voice, “Hi there, Mrs. P, this is Kitty,” I replied. “I wondered if you’d like to spend the weekend at a haunted hotel? The staff dresses up like ghosts. Rumor has it, there may even be a few real ones! It should be a lot of fun!”
“Nah! I already have other plans,” she answered, with a bit of a yawn, as if I had just woken her up from a nap. “And, what might those be?” I asked curiously. “I’M GONNA WEAR FLOWERS IN MY HAIR AND MEDITATE FOR HOURS,” she answered lazily.
“Oh! Don’t be such a Party Pooper,” I chided. “You can do that any old weekend. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to play Peek-A-Boo with a ghost?”
“I’VE GOT THE HEEBIE JEEBIES AND THE GHOSTBUSTER BLUES just thinking about it!!” Mrs. Peacock replied nervously.
Hoping I could convince her to go with me, I said, "As you may recall, I WAS ONCE A PROFESSOR OF PSYCHIATRY SPECIALIZING IN HELPING PARANOID AND HOMICIDAL LUNATICS FIND THEIR INNER CHILD.”
“How could I forget, when you remind me at every opportunity?” asked Mrs. Peacock, snidely. “Well, be that as it may,” I answered matter-of-factly, “I was thinking maybe we could cut loose and look for our own inner child this weekend.”
“What if your inner child turns out to be a ghost?” asked Mrs. Peacock laughing. “Well, if it was, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, now would we?” I answered, as I rummaged in my refrigerator looking for a snack. “Who knows?” replied Mrs. Peacock. “Maybe I see dead people.”
Mrs. Peacock went on to say, “This is against my better judgment, but perhaps I do need to loosen up and not be such a wet blanket. I’ll go, but you must promise me that you will never leave my side.” …. “It’s a deal!” I promised. “We’re in this together.”
Friday evening, as Mrs. Peacock and I were walking into the lobby of The Haunted Hotel, a tall gentleman, wearing a bagpipe and nothing else, strode up to greet us. “Welcome to ‘The Haunted Hotel.’ People are just dying to get in!” he exclaimed, as he handed us each a glass of champagne from the tray he was carrying.
“I noticed most of the guests in the lobby weren’t wearing clothes, either, so I remarked, to Mrs. Peacock, “The invitation didn’t say, ‘Clothing Optional.’”
“Are you the host?” I asked the bagpiper. “No, I am the deranged Polish decorator, who moonlights as a bagpiper,” he answered. “Any requests?” he asked, as he played a few chords of “Ah! Ha! Ha! Stayin’ Alive. Stayin’ Ali-i-i-i-i-ve…”
“Maybe later,” I replied. “Right now, I expect we’d better go up to our room and get settled.” As we headed toward the elevator, I noticed a vase, with a large bouquet of cut flowers. With a bit of a chuckle, I said to Mrs. Peacock, “Do you remember that test we took, when we were young, to see if we needed to wear a bra or not?”
“Yes, I remember,” answered Mrs. Peacock, with a far-away look in her eyes. “We stuck a pencil under one of our boobs, and if it stayed there, we needed to wear a bra. Why do you bring that up now?”
“I was thinking about how you said you had plans to wear flowers in your hair this weekend,” I answered. “If we do the clothing optional thing, you could just take that bouquet and stick some of the flowers in your hair, and the rest under your boobs, and you’d be all set. It’s all about accessorizing. The Polish decorator has his bagpipe, after all! Too bad, I didn’t bring my Chihuahua.”
Just as she stepped off the elevator, Mrs. Peacock grabbed my arm and said in a frightened voice, “Something cold just brushed up against me! I’M TELLING YOU, I FELT A COLD, DEAD BODY WALK PAST ME!” I tried to reassure her, as I said, “I didn’t see anything. It’s probably just a combination of the champagne, your imagination, and a cold draft from somewhere. You know how drafty these old hotels can be. Or maybe, you really do see dead people!! Bwa! Ha! Ha!”
“Oh, goodie!” I exclaimed as we entered our room. I saw two chilled bottles of champagne in an ice bucket, a corkscrew, and some glasses waiting for us. We both drank three or four glasses of champagne. Perhaps, it was the champagne talking, but Mrs. Peacock suggested we spend the rest of the weekend nude. She continued," You said you wanted us to cut loose and look for our inner child. Well, my inner child wants to be naked!”
“OK, you talked me into it!” I agreed, secretly glad that I had recently lost ten pounds. “I was just kidding about the flowers by the way. How about we use our purses as accessories? Wanna stick of gum for the road?” …. “Ummmm!, Big Red, my favorite,” replied Mrs. Peacock as we each took two sticks.”
Naked and accessorized, we hopped back into the elevator to go down to the lobby. Just as the doors opened below, we heard loud blood-curdling screams. OMG, that lump in my throat was my gum! THE DERANGED POLISH INTERIOR DECORATOR SCREAMED SO LOUD, I SWALLOWED MY GUM!
MRS. PEACOCK GASPED AS THE HEADLESS MAN FLOATED BY us when we stepped out into the lobby. It was none other than the body of the deranged bagpiper!! Apparently, his head had simply popped off, much like a champagne cork, and that was what all the screaming had been about. I heard someone in the crowd say, “Too much of the Bubbly for him!!”
“UMMMMM, MRS. P,” I whispered. “I may just be hallucinating about what happened to the bagpiper, but in any case, I THINK IT’S TIME TO GET MY SORRY *** OUTTA HERE. Let’s go while we still can!”
We barely managed to get out of the hotel before it all went up in flames. A few questions remain. What homicidal maniac set up this weekend? Was it their inner child? Will it ever happen again? Who torched the hotel? And, what the heck was in that champagne?