In Gaelic mythology, on the first day of the Festival of Samhain, the doors to the underworld opened up just enough that the spirits of the dead could return to the realm of the living.
It is the basis for what is now referred to as Devil’s Night, and, of course, the central plot device in “The Crow.” The souls could then wander the earth freely. All Hallow’s Eve was originally a celebration of the dead returning. So waking up from a dead sleep to a supernatural entity in my kitchen probably shouldn’t have been such a shock.
This is my chilling story of today’s encounter with the lady with the blue lights, just in time for Halloween. All of what you are about to read is the truth.
So, Semi-Pro Mom is out of town for the weekend attending a blog conference which means we’ve been having boys time in our house. Naturally, that means staying up late watching scary movies. Of course the Semi-Pro Kid doesn’t value sleeping in on a Sunday morning quite as much as me so I was awoken by a four-year-old with an elbow to the trachea and a chorus of “wakey, wakey!” a couple hours before I was actually ready to drag myself out of bed.
“I want to watch a good movie,” he said, kid-code for I’m-going-to-watch-other-people-playing-video-games-on-Youtube.
Accepting the inevitable end of slumber, I head to the bathroom for my morning ritual. I figure that’ll be my last opportunity for some personal time before I have to cook breakfast, take the dog out, do life, etc… The power flickers. I was just getting into the moment when my son comes back up stairs and asks for a drink.
“I’m pooping. Leave me alone,” I said eloquently. “Get yourself a juice box.”
“I can’t,” he replied. “The lady in the kitchen won’t stop talking to me.”
My kid says weird shit every day so it didn’t even register. This is the same kid who refuses to eat all non-mashed and non-fried potatoes because he says they taste like dragons. I figured it was an elaborate justification for being lazy, sort of like the time he said couldn’t wash his hands because Dr. Doom stole the soap.
At this point, I’m trying to finish an email and wrap up my business because I hear the dog getting antsy for his morning walk. I tell him I’ll be down in a minute so go back downstairs. I hear his little footsteps go back downstairs and carry on with my business.
“DAAAD!!!” he yells from downstairs. “The TV’s not working.”
“I’M POOPING. I”LL BE DOWN IN A MINUTE,” I yelled loud enough that the neighbors are now aware of what I’m up to.
The footsteps come running back up stairs.
“Dad, Kaze won’t stop barking.”
“Dad. I’m thirsty.”
“So get a juice box out of the fridge.”
“I can’t. The lady in the kitchen needs to tell you something.”
I’m still half-asleep and fully annoyed by this point. And since daddy was in charge this weekend, it means we’ve eaten nothing but junk food for the past 24 hours which is making the morning bathroom mission run longer than anticipated.
“What lady in the kitchen?” I asked, knowing that it was just the two of us for the weekend.
“The lady in the kitchen with the blue lights,” he said matter-of-factly.
“There’s no lady in the kitchen,” I said.
“Yes there is. The lady with blue lights that go round and round,” he said while making motions with his hand.
And right on cue, the dog starting with the angry barking. I hear a loud crash. The power flickers again. I pinched it mid-loaf. It was a totally involuntary reaction. My sphincter just clenched.
“I want scrambled eggs and fruit loops,” he said calmly as I fumble with toilet paper.
WHAT THE FUCK CHILD! THERE IS A SUPERNATURAL PORTAL TO HELL OPEN IN OUR KITCHEN AND THE DISPOSSESSED SOULS HAVE COME THROUGH TO LAY CLAIM TO MY SOUL FOR SOME WRONG I COMMITTED IN A PREVIOUS LIFE AND YOU ARE WORRIED ABOUT BREAKFAST!!! YOU ARE PROBABLY GOING TO SEE YOUR FATHER GET SUCKED INTO A STYGIAN VORTEX OF ETERNAL SUFFERING AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS A HALF-DRANK BOTTLE OF GRAPE JUICE? I’VE ONLY BEEN AWAKE FOR 10 MINUTES AND I’M ALREADY HAVING TO WORRY ABOUT VANQUISHING DEMONIC SPAWN BACK TO AN ALTERNATE DIMENSION!!!
The dog is still barking. I wonder how hard it would be to dig my baseball bat out of the mess of a closet. Then I contemplate making a crucifix out of Hot Wheels track before heading downstairs. I settle for just my phone. At least I will document proof of the afterlife before my soul gets (Sidenote: Please follow me on Instagram @semiprodad) https://www.instagram.com/thesemiprodad/
On the floor of the living room, my kid has arranged his Tsum-Tsum collection in a perfect circle. This must be the doorway to hell that it came through.My mind races. I wonder what a displaced spirit will actually look like. Will she be like Beetleguese with longer hair? Or will she look normal like a paler Wynona Ryder? Maybe she will look more like the librarian from the original Ghostbusters. My mind wanders into why the new Ghostbusters was such an abomination of a movie.
I said my final goodbyes to my mortal soul and peer around the corner into the kitchen. A women’s voice says hello.
And then that same voice tells me that she is unable to connect to the internet.
Our Amazon Echo, which we keep on the kitchen window sill, was rebooting from the power outages. The lady with the blue lights was just his way of describing Alexa, the automated voice service. The commotion and crash was just the dog barking through the blinds at the neighbor’s stupid Pomeranian and knocking over a decorative screen and broom that was in the way.
MY SOUL IS SAFE!
From the living room, the theme song to “Octonauts” starts playing on the television.
Nevermind. I’m in hell after all.
Happy Halloween, y’all.
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