Granny Frankenstein hovered over the monster body of her dead grandson, waving an umbrella in her hand, and yelling, “Serves you right, ya big lug! If someone else hadn’t done it, I would have done it myself!” She gave the body a few vicious pokes as two goblins pulled her out of the way in an attempt to calm her down.
“Mother! What have you done?” roared Dr. Frankenstein, running out of the house toward the scene.
He must have been working in his laboratory when the death occurred. His white coat was flapping, and for some reason he wore enormous white and black bowling shoes covered in some kind of bright green goop. I ran into the garage and grabbed my inconspicuous giant red clown binoculars with ultraviolet x-ray bonus vision to get a closer look at what was transpiring. The rest of the neighbors down the street took my lead and came out of their houses with their colossal magnified eyepieces of all colors, and watched the proceedings, excitedly. Both sides of the block now contained a rainbow of motley nosey onlookers. Jack O’Lantern grinned fiendishly behind the big tree in his yard with only his massive orange optical instrument sticking out so no one would notice he was there. Morticia and Gomez sat on their porch nonchalantly sipping tea and eating crumpets while they peered through their immense black and white telescope to enjoy the shenanigans. The witches next door howled and cackled with glee at the sight, and that woke the family of werewolves who came running out the door, sniffing and pining for blood. Everyone loved a dramatic and horrendous killing in our neighborhood. Especially, when it was someone famous. It seemed to happen rather frequently around October thirty-first in Halloween Town.
Back to Dr. Frankenstein’s bowling shoes. They were obviously soiled in some way. Looking through the binoculars it appeared to be a greenish tinted slime or mud. But, more odd, was they seemed to be faintly glowing, and disproportionately large.
“Step aside, step aside,” growled two swaggering zombie lieutenants, stumbling over one another. One of them had a bloody eyeball dripping dangerously from its socket, and it fell to the ground into a puddle of the unknown sludge. He stopped to pick it up, and then stuck the stringy mess back in his face.
As they looked at the body, collecting more evidence, they noted that the monster wore no shoes. His size thirty hoofers glistened with muddy slime, showcasing his grossly disfigured gnarly yellow toenails. The zombies got excited and began to drool as they examined the monsters oversized cranium, discovering he had smashed his skull on the concrete. They lifted his head, and I zoomed in to see the oozing brains falling in clumps on the pavement. Lieutenant Eyeball couldn’t resist stuffing a handful into his mouth. The bloodied, grey tofu-looking chunks fell out of the holes in his throat, dribbling down his chest back to the ground.
Next, they rolled the body over. The monster was heavy, and the zombies’ fragile bodies took a beating as they tried to lay him on his side. The neighbors took bets on what body parts would fall off the zombies first. Lieutenant Eyeball lost an entire arm, and the other zombie lost a few fingers in the transfer. The werewolves must have won the bet as they started hooting and howling, and amused laughter drifted through the neighborhood. Lieutenant Eyeball lifted up his remaining arm, revealing a small rubber ducky in his decomposing hand.
Dr. Frankenstein argued loudly with the zombies, “There is nothing more to see here! It is obvious my son slipped on the rubber duck, fell, and crushed his skull on the concrete. That is what killed him! Please leave the premises, and let us grieve for our family member.”
“We would like to investigate the premises, Dr. Frankenstein. Please stand down, and let us pass,” growled Lieutenant Eyeball. “We have reason to believe there is foul play involved in this death.”
Granny Frankenstein protested, “Let us bury our dead, we are done with your questions!”
At this point, I knew they would be going into the backyard leading to the doctor’s laboratory, and I would lose sight of the happenings. I decided to reveal myself, and walked over to the death scene, engaging the attention of the zombie lieutenants.
“Excuse me, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Inspector Jacques Clouseau,” I said, clicking my heels together and saluting. ” My specialty as an investigator is usually associated with the finding of pink diamonds, but I could not help but become quite involved in the proceedings of your investigation. I live next door and have been observing the scene. I am well acquainted with the Frankenstein’s, and am quite sure Dr. Frankenstein would agree to have me join you in your search of the premises,” I said, turning and bowing somewhat awkwardly to Dr. and Granny Frankenstein.
Dr. Frankenstein looked relieved. “Yes, Inspector, won’t you join us?”
I had the feeling he would agree, though his opinion of me was probably that of a blundering idiot. But, Inspector Clouseau always gets his man.
We began walking to the courtyard behind the Frankenstein mansion, a spectacle of a sight to see as the wobbling lieutenants, minus their newly lost appendages, followed the good doctor and myself. Granny followed further behind, waving her umbrella mercilessly at the zombies. Her goblin attendants flapped their dark wings talking gibberish behind her, and made sure the raving old woman didn’t hurt herself.
The first thing we noticed were two sets of footprints leading behind the courtyard hedgerow into an elaborate hidden labyrinth of thick greenery and paths. This maze of magical bushes stood next to an outside wall of the laboratory, and as we looked up to the roof of the massive concrete building we saw a platform jutting out over the labyrinth. A trough dropped drizzles of green muck. One set of footprints were the huge naked feet of the Frankenstein monster, and the other were gigantic shoe prints, possibly from the bowling shoes the doctor wore.
“Dr. Frankenstein, what project are you currently working on? What is this strange glowing sludge you are generating from the laboratory? ” I questioned.
“Hydro fusion, Inspector. It is a new “green” energy source powered by nuclear reactors and totally safe for the environment,” he replied. His alarmed eyes darted back and forth from the laboratory to me, and he wasn’t able to look me in the eye to give a believable answer.
“I think you may be confused with nuclear fission, doctor. Our whole town could explode at any moment.”
The zombie lieutenants had stepped in the green goo with their bare feet and were excitedly lifting their bony knees up and down to get the stringy stuff off. Granny had slipped in the slime and her feet flew above her head as she flailed backwards, impaling one of the goblins with her umbrella, and the other goblin tried to catch her before she hit the ground. The zombies’ bodies pulsated, shimmering and fading with incandescent light before one of their heads exploded. The second zombie simply blew into bits, his entrails splattered over both Dr. Frankenstein and myself.
I looked at the doctor and said, “Well, now I know how your son truly died, but why did you steal his shoes?”
“He wouldn’t take a bath this morning, so I dressed up like a clown with his big bowling shoes on to scare the pants off him. It upset him so much he ran screaming into the courtyard barefoot, with his favorite rubber ducky in hand, into the labyrinth where all the nuclear run-off is housed. I knew he was a goner.”
We heard what sounded like gunshots, and looked up to see the top of the laboratory engulfed in flames and beginning to set off mini explosions.
“We are, too, doctor. We are, too.”
An enormous mushroom cloud could be seen over Halloween Town, and all the spooky residents perished as the bomb discharged. Until next year…when Halloween Town is reborn each haunted Hallow’s Eve.
© 2016, Rebecca Braun. All rights reserved.
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