Disclaimer: Everybody and everybody's mother knows as bloody well as I do
that I don't own Jack Skellington and company. So there you go.
I lay curled up snugly under the covers of the bed which I had claimed for my own. Of course no one minded. After all, there was no one else to sleep in any of the many dark rooms of the towering mansion, except for its owner and his better half. In fact, they both seemed to enjoy my eerie presence. Since they are both dead, like Iam, they are not truly afraid of me. Most living people are terrified of ghosts. I guess it's because of the way the hair on the back of their neck stands up, or the way they feel a chill run up their spine, or maybe because they can feel that they are being watched.
But anyway, I was quite welcome. They don't even mind when I sometimes throw something across the room. Jack always just, with a chuckle, says something like "Oh, that silly poltergeist, always so fiendish!" And Sally always has had an uncanny knowledge of my whereabouts. I always love to watch those two together. Sometimes (being rather wicked as I am, after all), I glide silently up the spiral staircase in the wee hours of the night to see if they're engaged in anything, shall we say, "interesting." But when I do, they always sense my presence. Especially Sally. She always knows. She usually peeks out from under the blankets, her long red hair always looking a bit ruffled (as I can't help but notice this detail and knowingly ponder its cause), and glances around the room, then says, "Oh, spirit, you're such a snoop." Then she smiles her sweet rag doll smile right at me-despite the fact that I'm not actually visible-and disappears once more. She really must have a sixth sense-ha!
But, as I have said, it truly is an honor to live in the house of the Pumpkin King and Queen of Halloween Town. Skellington mansion is beautiful. So I live in one of the nicest rooms. Which brings me back to where I was before. I was all nice and cozy. I could feel spiders crawling around under the covers. I had just returned from one of my midnight strolls to the tower, and I had felt very drowsy upon seeing Jack and Sally both fast asleep in each other's arms. So I slithered back to my room and had almost drifted off into a pleasant nightmare, when suddenly I was roused by a loud banging sound. I sat up noiselessly and listened.
I could feel my heart pounding sharply-yes, you still experience things like that even if you're a phantom. After a few moments, I began to get comfortable again, because I just assumed that it was Jack. I must have woken them up after all during my visit to their bedroom. After all, he was the master of all things that go "bump" in the night. He was probably up to some "mischief," as usual, that old coot. Despite the fact that I loved to spy on him and Sally (as I said, I am quite the wicked one), I decided to try to get a little shuteye instead. But then I could hear the banging again, this time even louder.
Then I heard Jack's footsteps on the spiral staircase. He was muttering goodness knows what softly to himself. Seeing as I was desperately wondering what was up, I slipped out of bed and out the door, then down the hallway. I peered cautiously around the corner. Jack was fiddling with his pinstripe bathrobe, apparently attempting to fasten it on himself adequately. I wondered where he found clothes to fit him just right, since he was so dreadfully tall and thin. The banging sounded again, still louder, followed by the sound of a shrill scream. The doorbell!
I lay curled up snugly under the covers of the bed which I had claimed for my own. Of course no one minded. After all, there was no one else to sleep in any of the many dark rooms of the towering mansion, except for its owner and his better half. In fact, they both seemed to enjoy my eerie presence. Since they are both dead, like Iam, they are not truly afraid of me. Most living people are terrified of ghosts. I guess it's because of the way the hair on the back of their neck stands up, or the way they feel a chill run up their spine, or maybe because they can feel that they are being watched.
But anyway, I was quite welcome. They don't even mind when I sometimes throw something across the room. Jack always just, with a chuckle, says something like "Oh, that silly poltergeist, always so fiendish!" And Sally always has had an uncanny knowledge of my whereabouts. I always love to watch those two together. Sometimes (being rather wicked as I am, after all), I glide silently up the spiral staircase in the wee hours of the night to see if they're engaged in anything, shall we say, "interesting." But when I do, they always sense my presence. Especially Sally. She always knows. She usually peeks out from under the blankets, her long red hair always looking a bit ruffled (as I can't help but notice this detail and knowingly ponder its cause), and glances around the room, then says, "Oh, spirit, you're such a snoop." Then she smiles her sweet rag doll smile right at me-despite the fact that I'm not actually visible-and disappears once more. She really must have a sixth sense-ha!
But, as I have said, it truly is an honor to live in the house of the Pumpkin King and Queen of Halloween Town. Skellington mansion is beautiful. So I live in one of the nicest rooms. Which brings me back to where I was before. I was all nice and cozy. I could feel spiders crawling around under the covers. I had just returned from one of my midnight strolls to the tower, and I had felt very drowsy upon seeing Jack and Sally both fast asleep in each other's arms. So I slithered back to my room and had almost drifted off into a pleasant nightmare, when suddenly I was roused by a loud banging sound. I sat up noiselessly and listened.
I could feel my heart pounding sharply-yes, you still experience things like that even if you're a phantom. After a few moments, I began to get comfortable again, because I just assumed that it was Jack. I must have woken them up after all during my visit to their bedroom. After all, he was the master of all things that go "bump" in the night. He was probably up to some "mischief," as usual, that old coot. Despite the fact that I loved to spy on him and Sally (as I said, I am quite the wicked one), I decided to try to get a little shuteye instead. But then I could hear the banging again, this time even louder.
Then I heard Jack's footsteps on the spiral staircase. He was muttering goodness knows what softly to himself. Seeing as I was desperately wondering what was up, I slipped out of bed and out the door, then down the hallway. I peered cautiously around the corner. Jack was fiddling with his pinstripe bathrobe, apparently attempting to fasten it on himself adequately. I wondered where he found clothes to fit him just right, since he was so dreadfully tall and thin. The banging sounded again, still louder, followed by the sound of a shrill scream. The doorbell!