At this point, I want someone to drag me to hell. When I started haunting the Shack, I would knock over one or two ketchup packets to start small. No one noticed. I flickered all of the lights. Again, no response. Then I got bolder. Late at night, with only a cashier in eyesight, I pushed all of the napkins and utensils off of the counter, crashing to the ground. The cashier looked up and yelled, “Dammit, Carl! They gave us a slippery batch this time!” Again, these were napkins and plastic forks. I had to convince them it was…
Author: Dan Carr
Dan Carr
Following a bitter defeat in the Great Goose War of 1947, General Carr retired in disgrace, to write about fine arts and wines. This is a piece from the archives that, before today, had never previously been touched. Translation errors may be present due to the lost script it was originally written in.