Werewolf meets Zombies and wins - again!

The other night on the 31st of October I had a visit from a couple of ghoulies….. or were they ghosties? Neither actually, they were both a total pain in the bum.

I was alone, working late at the office – and I heard these dysfunctional noises outside the window….. "Go on, you knock on the door, I did the last one". I saved them the trouble, leaping from the side room to reveal myself in all my glory through the full-length clear glass door.

Now when I want to be, I can be very scary. Eighteen stone big hairy person – a cross between Hagrid, Chewbacca, Rolf Harris and Fungus the Bogeyman can intimidate 15 year olds with latex masks on, no trouble. It’s no contest really…..

After all, I did it last year. When some 'trick or treaters' called, I said sorry, I didn’t want a ‘Watchtower’ journal as I was already a Jehovah’s Witness. Then I went into a Lordy, Lordy death and retribution act. From nowhere, I acquired a Southern States of America accent – and finally finished off my fire and brimstone rant with …."Eternal damnation will be yours unless you repent! Cast those demons aside from your infernal and vile bodies. Repent and embrace the Lord, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy!"......

They couldn’t get away fast enough…

Anyway, back to the present. As a result of my startling appearance, these two zombies, with donned zombie masks and zombie suits took a step back. 1 – nil to me I think. Time to press home my advantage. I opened the door. "Yes, whaddya want?"

"Trick or treat Mister?"

"Trick or treat eh....... OK, give us a Carol then"

"What?"

"A Carol, gizz a Carol…. Something like, ooooh, er, tra la lar.Let me think… - ‘Hark the Herald Angels Si – ing’ will do, give us a rendition of that then"

"It’s trick or treat Mister. You know, a terrick, or a terreat"

"Great, I do not require a terrick, thanks very much, but I’d love a terreat. And the terreat I would like is for you to sing me a Carol. I’ll help if you like, altogether now, after three, 1 – 2 – 3, Hark the Herald angels siiiiii – iiiiing. Galllorrrrie to the new born Kinga..……."

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they retreated, back into the inky blackness and disappeared….. One of them whispered…" He’s a right Nutter"

I couldn’t possibly comment.