It was a dusk-like night with a slight drizzle, and we editors were off our heads with fright as we started layout for the next issue of The Waltonian.
With eyes tearing up and crossed from prolonged screen vision atrophy, we looked at the empty pages in endless blank stares-the last day of layout and we only have one article.
The deadline was pressing down upon on us and the creatures within, the creatures of the Waltonian office, were rearing their ugly heads.
“Hey Sarah,” said Shannon, “Maybe you can just reprint the Desmond Tutu article. Perhaps no one will notice…
“Sarah? That’s weird. She was sleeping in that chair just a minute ago…”
Shannon swiveled around in her chair and yelled, “Hey, did anyone see where Sarah went?”
The editors that were able to pull their blood-shot eyes from the hypnotizing screen glanced at Shannon long enough to shrug.
“I haven’t seen her since that flood, but that was weeks ago,” Lauren said, glancing around. “There’s probably some peace rally going on within a 20-mile radius of here; we could check there,” Tiffany offered.
“Maybe Sarah is in New York with Brandon making peace between the Red Sox and the Yankees,” Andrea said.
She then proceeded to yell, “The Yankees win, the Yankees win,” forgetting that the curse of 1918 had finally been broken.
Rebecca came in from the other part of the office.
“Guys, Marvin the flaming orange backwards potholder is gone too,” Rebecca said.
“She probably went to bake some cookies,” Tim said. “She’ll be back soon.”
But then they all heard footsteps pounding down the hall, and Sarah came running in.
“The ghost of the fourth floor is after me!” she shrieked.
The editors peered into the darkness of the hall outside the office, trying to focus our vision on Sarah’s pursuant.
Suddenly, out of the formless blackness appeared an image more terrifying than any we had ever beheld.
There before us stood the three-headed embodiment of the last two months of election coverage. We knew instantly its intentions were not friendly.
The monster stood in the doorway, glaring at us with each of its purple cyclopse eyes. Its green, scaly body towered over us, slime dripping from his webbed limbs and flaming orange drool, mixed with pieces of potholder, dangled from his fangs onto the office floor.
“Marvin!” Sarah shrieked. Chris caught her as she fainted.
Just then, Lauren, the trusty Editor-In-Chief, leaped into the office, ready to defend her editors to the death.
“Halt! I command thee!” she growled, her glowing green newspaper pointed menancingly at the monster. The monster dropped Marvin and cowered in the corner, fearing for its life.
“I will write thee out of existence,” Lauren threatened.
“Write, that’s it!” Chris said. “We have a story!”
*This “Inquiring Minds” was written in the Halloween spirit by all the editorial staff in a round-robin format. We hope you have enjoyed our senseless bantering. Now on to your regularly scheduled newspaper.