“Spooky Story”
Closing the front door, Karl called out, “We’re back.” He unhooked Buster’s leash and the Basset Hound plodded into the kitchen to get a drink of water.
Karl took his
shoes off and walked into the living room.
His wife Susan was where he had left her: in her “office” corner staring
at her laptop. He walked up behind her
and kissed the top of her head. “What
are you stuck on?”
Susan sighed. “It’s spooky season, and we’re going into an
important election, so I wanted to do my part and write a spooky election
story.”
“What did you come
up with?”
“I wrote,
‘President Trump,’ and I didn’t want to go on.”
Karl snorted. He then pretended to scream. “Agggh.
The horror.” Kissing her forehead he said, “That hack Stephen King has
nothing on you.”
Susan smiled. “It just feels like I need to do more.”
Rubbing her
shoulder, Karl said, “Come on. We all
know we’ll have President Clinton 2.0. I
doubt he even wants to be President. It
would mean he’d have to work for once in his life. And he can make so much more money giving
speeches bitching about how terrible she is.
If we’re lucky, in a year or so he’ll fade into obscurity.”
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