There is the tradition in our house where everyone tries to scare the hell out of Dad. Oh, it's funny alright...let's hide behind the door and when Dad walks down the hallway, we jump out, yell at the top of our lungs and watch Dad go into cardiac arrest. It's all fun and games until Dad flat lines.I guess it's my fault. As each of our children were growing up, I would tell them stories of how my mother used to hide in my bedroom closet and when I would enter the room she would jump out and scare me to death...well...almost to death. One time she even donned my Gene Simmons Halloween mask, and as I entered our family room, she jumped out from behind the hutch and scared the "Detroit Rock City" right out of me. So, it was only natural that after hearing the tales of Grandma's campaign of "shock and awe" against my psyche that they would pick up her mantel and set out on a frightful campaign of their own.
I must admit that most of the time I am oblivious to everyone and everything that is going on around me. This character flaw of mine makes it painfully easy for my offspring to scare me at will. While my mother seemed to receive some ill-gained reward from terrorizing me, my band of maniacal misfits has made scaring Dad a blood sport. Not a week goes by that someone in my family doesn't scare the hell out of me. It has gotten to the point where I can't walk down the hallway, in our house, or enter a room without checking to make sure that someone isn't hiding under the bed, in a closet or behind a door.
But it doesn't stop with my own kids. Most recently, my son's girlfriends have decided that they have to participate in the frivolity. Last night, one of them jumped out and scared me as I exited my bedroom. Thinking the worst was over, I walked down the hallway and as I began to walk down the stairs, my other son's girlfriend decided she would hide on the other side of the stairs and scare me as I made my way to the kitchen.
Listen, my heart can only take so much. After 50 years, I'm not sure how much more scaring I can take. Whether or not you can list "Cause of Death" on a death certificate as "This poor bastard was scared to death" I don't know. But just in case I conk out from being scared to death, make sure you give a copy of this blog to Nancy Grace so she can go find my killers.
I have to go now...I think I just heard something or someone behind the door going into the basement.
Be Well.
Bill
