Haunted Humor
3 More Tiny Scary Stories Starring a Dumbass
It’s me. I’m the dumbass.
How daring of you to click on this ghastly link. You can find the original 5 spooky stories here if you aren’t chicken shit!
The Fisherman
I was skipping rocks on the water when the fog rolled in and an old ship creaked its way to shore. Through the haze, I saw a pale fisherman with red eyes and hooks for hands hobbling toward me. Oh good, maybe he can be my friend, I thought.
“Hey, do you want to play Rock, Paper, Scissors?” I asked. The ghastly figure stopped in his tracks and raised his hooks. “Yar, how the hell am I supposed to play that game with these here hooks?” he asked. I held my finger up in a hook shape. “I guess we could play Hook, Hook, Hook instead?”
“Sure,” the ghoulish fisherman grinned. “I’ll go first.” He raised his arms and bellowed “Hook, Hook, Hook!” while delivering 3 painful blows. He stood over my injured body, shook his head, and walked back into the mist.
As I dragged myself to the shoreline, another ghost ship appeared. A pale figure emerged from the fog, but this one had two eye patches.
I called out to him. “Hey, do you want to play I Spy?”
Bloody Mary
I entered the dimly-lit bathroom and stood before the mirror. I said “Bloody Mary” 3 times and waited nervously. The ghoul appeared and looked at me with her sinister, black eyes. “Why have you summoned me?” she asked, coldly.
I held up two sheets of paper. “Do you like this wallpaper with the stripes or this one with the flowers?” I asked. She studied them and said, “You have shit taste. Here, let me help.” She opened her mouth and sprayed ghost blood all over the striped option. “How’s that?” she sneered.
“Perfect, Mary. JUST PERFECT!” I beamed.
The ghost squinted at me in confusion. Then she shrugged and vanished.
“Hey! Where’d you go? I’m gonna need more ghost blood to get this room finished!”
The Psychic
When I turned 18, I gathered up the nerve to enter the creepy lair of Madame Velda. The hunched woman beckoned to me with a wrinkled finger. I settled in at her table and gazed at the purple crystal ball between us.
Velda waved her arthritic hands over the ball and spoke. “I can see into your future, my dear. I see you, twenty years from now!”
An image of an older me appeared in the ball. I gasped. “But I’m wheezing and I have a double chin and my face is so blotchy and red!” I cried.
“Yes, the ball does not lie. But futures CAN be influenced…”
“I’ve seen enough. This sucks. I’m going to look like a dumpster fire when I’m 38!” I grabbed my coat. As I walked toward the door, I heard her call out to me — something about eating healthy and exercising and blah blah blah.
On my 38th birthday, I held a mirror to my face. “She was right. God damn it, the old bag was right!” I chuckled as I brushed the Doritos crumbs from my shirt.