By Staff Writer Tavish Mohanti
Mwahahahaahahahahaha. Do you like my evil laugh? How about this one? Tehehehehe. I’m just trying out a couple of different ones. Why? Because today’s the big day. Friday the 13th. And who am I? That’s one secret I’ll take to my grave. Just kidding — there’s no need because I’m the spirit of Friday the 13th. The screams. The tears. The pure, unadulterated fear. It only comes once a year. Okay fine, twice in 2020, but that sounds less dramatic. Anyway, I am ready to give it my all. Look, I have my special socks on and a whole boo-ket list. Are you ready? Let the terror commence.
Yoohoo! Over here. I’m just outside little ol’ Johnny’s window, watching him sleep soundly. Rock-a-bye Johnny. On the bed top. I am the ghost that will make your heart stop. I have chosen this lowly little high school student to terrorize. I will play all kinds of dastardly tricks on him, you’ll see. I hope he doesn’t take it personally. Sleep tight, sweetie, your day is about to be delightfully terrible.
Look at him. Standing in the kitchen, happily making his morning meal. His innocent little face, sweet as a cherry pie. Soon it will be nothing but a sad, husk of what it once was. I love cherry pie. Sorry, back to the point. He just made himself a whole stack of warm pancakes. It would be a shame if, say, a devilishly handsome evil spirit were to trip him, and all of his pancakes would fall to the floor. Oh wait, I just did. Silly me. Look at him — on the floor, watching maple syrup pool around him, his ruined pancakes splattered across the linoleum floor. Watch as he sobs. Wait, what is he doing? No, Johnny. Remember the five-second rule! Stop — stop eating the pancakes off the floor. JOHNNY NO!
Okay, fine so my first trick didn’t exactly work out as expected. But that is A-okay. I am a 2,020-year-old spirit with unspeakable, supernatural powers. I have outlived the greatest of kings and watched as civilization after civilization has turned to dust. Nothing can stop me. I just have to try again. And I have the perfect idea this time. He’s peacefully taking his AP Chemistry test. Ahhh, the calm, ignorant bliss before the storm. Little does he know that I am about to cut his WiFi in 3…2….1….yes, it worked. His Zoom window just crashed.
Cue utter chaos.
Now, he will feel an impending doom, whatever shall he do. He’s going to fail this test, and his grade will drop. Wait, what is he doing? Why isn’t he freaking out? He’s not even trying to rejoin. Wait — is he taking a nap?
Johnny has proved to be a formidable opponent. But, I’m determined to break him. In my hand, I have a jar full of bees that I will unleash inside his house. They will infest his home, swarming by the hundreds around him. He will scream. He will shout. He will be petrified.
He’s been surrounded by bees for hours already, and he’s STILL unfazed. He just said, “Chile anyways, at least they aren’t murder hornets,” and proceeded to identify them from his Entomology books. I don’t get it. My tricks are supposed to work every year. Well, I guess I’m going to have to go back to the drawing board.
Alright, I’ve figured it out. I am going to play it plain and simple — some good ol’ fashioned haunting. Ready? “Johhhhhhnyyyyyy. Johhhhhhnyyyyyy. It is meeeee. The ghosssstt of Friiiidaaaay the 13thhhhhhh. You shallll feeeel myyyy wraaaath.” Yes, yes, it worked. He’s backing away. He’s screaming. He’s shaking. His eyes are wide with fear.
Nevermind. He just told me to put on a mask and called me a Karen. Rude. I — I am a 2,020-year-old malicious ghoul. How dare he speak to me that way.
Yeah, so … I’m going to call it a night. I think 2020 has me beat; I need to retire soon. I can’t compete with wildfires, a global pandemic, murder hornets, and election week. Does anyone know if Santa is hiring? Well, I guess — see you next year. I’m going to go rant to the Grinch.
Cover graphic by Feature Editor Ian Park