One of the unfortunate risks you take when purchasing a 100+ year old home is the fact that it could possibly be haunted. And, friends, it seems that I may have some roommates that associate with Casper. And I’m sorta ticked off I can’t contact them to charge them rent because this house payment is expensive.
Now, I don’t necessarily believe in all that stuff, or at least I try not to so I can actually get some sleep at night. But Tom, the most reasonable, down-to-earth, un-superstitious person I know is totally caught up in the belief that a ghost lives in my house. The ghost has a name, but we will just refer to him as Simba because Fort Valley is a small town and I don’t want anyone thinking I’m saying their great-uncle’s cousin’s husband is a spirit. And also because I love The Lion King.
It started one night when Tom and I got home from dinner with friends. I leave my porch light on all the time – even during the day. It was dark when Tom dropped me off after dinner, and we were walking up the porch stairs when the porch light flickered off. Of course, we both assume the bulb blew, but further inspection found that the bulb did not blow. In fact, the switch inside of the house was now turned down…as in, someone physically (OR MAYBE SPIRITUALLY…) turned off the light. Well, I, of course, fly off the handle and assume Chuckie is in my house turning off lights and hiding in my closet with knife. But after a 2-hour home inspection with a pistol in his hand, Tom had yet to find any evidence that someone was in the house. Naturally, when Tom leaves later that night, I request that he leave the foyer light on. I even check, after he has pulled away, and the foyer light was on. Well, when I get up that morning, guess what was turned off? The foyer light. That’s right. I have on OCD, electricity-saving ghost.
A few other weird things have happened…Tom swears Simba locked my kitchen cabinet, but the truth is, I did that one. And one night about two weeks ago a door closed by itself, but I didn’t even tell Tom about that because I can’t quite stress to you just how obsessed and scared he is.
So, here’s the deal. I don’t really mind if there is a ghost in my house. To be honest, I’m more scared of the hoodlums that ride by my house at 2 and 3 in the morning than a ghost that just likes to save me on my Flint bill each month. But Tom is absolutely petrified out of his mind to the point that EVERYONE in Fort Valley has heard about Simba and his antics. Tom also (although he won’t admit this) won’t stay at my house when I’m not there. It’s really quite hilarious, but I definitely think this qualifies him to hand over his man card. So, after doing his research, Tom has learned this:
My house is located at a place that was once known as “Rigdon Station.” It was a farming community owned by the Rigdons. Simba, while alive, lived in my house. He was a farmer and unfortunately, an alcoholic. He enjoyed shooting a .22 rifle and we know this because there was a dead walnut tree in my backyard full of .22 bullets AND because one of Tom’s farming buddies was friends with Simba back in the day and used to shoot with him. Sadly, Simba committed suicide in a peach orchard not too far from here. Well, Tom’s theory is that Simba is haunting him because when I moved in, Tom cut down the tree to make a dining room table and apparently that “stirred-up” the ghost. BUT, here’s the kicker. Tom has NO CLUE that I know all of this. I only know this because Tom’s biffle, Scott, and I have teamed up to really have fun with this. Tom tells Scott EVERYTHING and Scott relays the message to me. Tom doesn’t want me to know about how Simba died because he’s afraid I will be too scared to live here. He severely underestimates me sometimes.
So this is what Scott and I have fabricated…all of which is one big lie. On the phone the other night, I told Tom that I’d been in touch with a 100-year-old woman at a nursing home who’s last name is Rigdon (okay, that part is true, but it’s a long story). *Lies start here*
Me: “You know that lady I sent that card to? She told me she had a nephew named Simba that once lived in my house.”
Tom: *Swallows hard* “Uhh…really?”
Keep in mind he has NO clue I even know about Simba and his death…
Me: “Yeah, and it’s really weird because when we were moving me in, I saw the word “Simba” written on a baseboard in the guest bedroom…isn’t that kinda cool?”
Tom: “Ya..ya..you what?! Written on the wall? Really?”
Me: “Yep, uh-huh. Written right there on the wall.”
Tom: “I want to set up a meeting with that lady. I need to talk to her about some stuff.”
Me: *Hangs up phone really fast so he can’t hear me laughing*
So, that’s where the story stands now, but Scott and I have big plans for this week. It just so happens that we’ve made a trip to the Halloween Store and bought a nice vile of fake blood. When I’m out working, Tom usually runs by my house and lets Aphid out. When he walks in and sees “SIMBA” written on my living room wall in blood, I can’t even begin to phantom…uh, I mean FATHOM the reaction he’s going to have.
He’s so good to me. And thankfully, he doesn’t read this blog, so I’m gonna need y’all to do me a favor and not tell him, so we can all come back for the update and laugh until we turn blue. I might even set up a video camera. I might even pretend not to be able to see it when he goes to show me so he thinks he’s the only one who can see the blood…which would REALLY send him for loops. You know, since he’s the one being haunted for cutting down the tree.
Baha. It’s an interesting life here at the Culverhizzle. Stay tuned.