Smush awoke in the wee hours, realizing quickly that Mogey was tossing and turning in the next hammock over.
"Psst," Smush whispered. "PSST!"
"Psst yourself," Mogey grumbled, poking his head out.
"You rang?" queried Psst Coogan, the most syballant student at St. Rumbly's School for Famished Youths.
"Not you, Coogan!" Smush whispered.
"Hmmph," Psst Coogan replied, laying back down with a raspy sigh.
"You rang?" inquired Hmmph Rodrigues, a surly dwarf three hammocks down.
"By St. Rumbly's sacred divider plate!" Smush exclaimed. "Mogey and I are trying to have a private conversation here!"
"About what?" Mogey whispered.
"I noticed you were struggling to get some shuteye. What's troubling you?"
"I- I suppose I'm a bit nervous about the ghost."
"Ol' Velveeta?" Smush asked with surprise. "He's harmless!"
"No, no, no," Mogey insisted. "Ol' Velveeta is a ghoul, and not a very ghoulish one at that. I'm talking about St. Rumbly's most infamous spirit: G. Willikers."
"Willikers is pretty spooky," Smush admitted. "But don't worry: He's got a major weakness and I happen to know what it is. Simply mention 'raspberry lime rickeys' and G. Willikers becomes so thirsty that he'll float off in search of beverages."
"Close," called a ghostly voice from the ceiling, "but I actually prefer egggggg creeeeeeeeeeeeams..."
"G. WILLIKERS!" Mogey exclaimed. He, Smush, Psst, Hmmph and all the rest screamed at the tops of their lungs as they scrambled desperately out of their hammocks and sprinted for the dormitory window.
When Brother Antipasto came to awaken the students the following morning, he found them all hunched on the roof, using their hammocks for shelter and muttering about G. Willikers and classic drugstore beverages.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment