Ghouls Just Want to Have Fun Read Online Free PDF Page A

mother when introduced to a stranger. Or at vaccination time.
    I do exercise. Well, at least I think about exercise. And when I can no longer zip up my Levi's without cutting off circulation to everything south of my belly button, I'll actually do it.
    I left the Gazette and strolled down the street to Hazel's Hometown Cafe, where you can get a warm slice of apple pie with a generous dip of cinnamon ice cream and a bottomless cup of coffee to wash it down, and all for three and a half bucks. If you aren't offended by the smell of manure, that is.
    To be fair to Hazel, I suppose I should explain. You see, lots of farmers frequent Hazel's. Many of them have finished combining by now, and they generally get together this time of year to compare their respective yields. That's bushels per acre for you city folk. There's lots of talk about nitrogen fertilizer, soybean rust and corn rootworm. Yum, yum!
    I headed straight for the circa-1950s counter and dropped onto a stool. I picked up a menu, even though I could tick off the breakfast and lunch items from memory, including daily specials and respective prices.
    "Well--afternoon, Tressa." Donita Smith greeted me with a cup in one hand and the coffeepot in the other. She placed the cup on the counter and poured it full. I sniffed appreciatively. Nary a cup of stale coffee is poured at Hazel's. But don't look too closely at your cutlery.
    Hazel of Hazel's Hometown Cafe has long since retired. She passes her time socializing at the senior citizen center during the week and pulling slots at the capital city's racetrack/casino on weekends. Her daughter, Donita, and her offspring run the family food business.
    "How fares our local celebrity?" Donita asked, returning the pot to its place under the Bunn coffee-maker. "Any Calamity capers to share?"
    I blew the steam from my coffee and took a careful sip. "Sorry, Donita. You're gonna have to wait and read all about it in the Gazette, " I replied, thinking the chronic "Calamity" references were about as funny as Full House reruns. Talk about torture. You strap me in a chair and force me to watch hour after hour of Bob Saget being, well, Bob Saget, and I'll tell you everything you want to know. And some things you don't.
    "So, you are working on something. Something big?"
    I pondered the question. I supposed you could call a six-foot-two-inch queen candidate big news.
    "I'm doing a feature on the homecoming queen and king candidates," I finally answered. "You know. Real in-depth stuff. Very cutting-edge."
    Donita rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I can see it now. The odd couple crowned king and queen. May I present Paula Bunyan and Danny DeVito. Or should I say Sasquatch and Tom Thumb?" Donita shook her head and giggled.
    I set down my coffee cup with a loud thump, spilling the contents onto the counter.
    "Say what?"
    "Oh, I've heard all about it. My niece, Tawny Sue, is up for queen. You know Tawny Sue. She helps out here sometimes. She's my sister Dora Lea's daughter."
    I nodded. Tawny Sue was the superjock candidate who had offers on the table from three colleges, in three different sports. All she had to do was decide if she wanted to play volleyball, basketball or softball. Ah, if only all life choices were so clear-cut. "Sure, I know Tawny. Nice girl. Sounds like she's got a great future ahead of her."
    "Can you imagine the school going along with such a mean trick?" Donita asked. "What on earth can they be thinking? To subject those poor things to public ridicule. They ought to be ashamed."
    I was about to tell Donita that I didn't know about Tom Thumb, but the female half of the "poor things" was more than capable of kicking the competition's butt--literally--but I didn't want to take the chance that I'd say more than I should. I decided I needed something in my mouth to occupy my tongue and teeth. Something sweet. And fruity. And packing more calories than Victoria's Secret models consume in a week.
    "Give me a slice of apple pie, warmed up