GHOST BOYS: A COMEDY STORY TO MAKE YOU LAUGH
I turned to Blake, my twin, whose body seemed to be comprised of an excessive number of sweat glands. “Let’s proceed,” I barked, urgency etched in my voice.
Blake, however, remained recalcitrant, his hunger from the day’s fast rendering him obstinate.
I often pondered why our mother had blessed us with such divergent natures. I, Byron was far from perfect, but Blake’s singular talent lay in donning the ghostly white costumes, albeit with an unfortunate propensity for perspiration. Conversely, I excelled at conjuring unsettling vocalizations.
As we neared the market square where nocturnal vendors showcased their finest meats, Blake’s hunger-driven discontent grew more pronounced. Clad in our ghostly attire with two strategically placed eye holes, I grasped his arm urging him forward.
“Blake, watch your step!” he chuckled, as I realized too late that I had stepped into a pat of cow dung.
“May God forgive your mischief!” I muttered, resisting the urge to chase after him as he darted through the plantation.
“We are grown men, for heaven’s sake!” I hissed, exasperation threatening to override caution.
Fortunately, the cacophony from the market traders masked our disagreement, providing an opportune moment to initiate our spectacle.
“Blake, the gong!” I whispered softly only to realize he had left the instrument with our ailing mother, taking the feeding pan instead.
“Use your head, not your mouth!” I rebuked restraining myself from physical reprimand.
The darkness deepened and I recognized the importance of seizing our opportunity before genuine thieves descended.
“We’ll howl,” I instructed Blake. “Dog barks no longer suffice.”
“Byron, when do we eat meat?” he pleaded.
My ire rose but I stumbled, falling onto my white ghostly attire.
“Patience”, mortification washed over me. I peeked through the stalls as vendors hastened to conclude transactions before midnight.
“Awwuuuuuuu!” Blake burst forth, racing ahead with the feeding pan.
“Dimwit!” I chased after him, his legs outpacing mine.
“Awwuuuuu!” I echoed as well, as our ghostly wails sending the crowd scattering.
“They’re the Ghost Boys!” someone cried, his mind a steady flashback to the legend of two innocent youths murdered by their father.
Undeterred, I maintained the wolf-like howl, my cow-dung-smeared legs propelling me forward.
“Flee! They’ve come for our blood!” Panic spread and the vendors abandoned their savory, fried meats.
Blake, meanwhile had secured an antelope leg.
Once the crowd vanished, I unleashed a final haunting “Awwuuuuuuu!”
Then, the sound of sharpening knives pierced the night air.
“Wait a minute!” I approached the man unfazed by my ghostly wails.
“Awwuuuuu!” I persisted, dropping to all fours for added authenticity. Yet, he continued cutting his meat, oblivious.
“Awwuuuuuuu…hey!” I jumped up, attempting to startle him.
Still, no reaction.
I then turned to locate Blake, only to find him pilfering a well-oiled fowl from another vendor.
“Awwuuuuu!” he mocked, reveling in the chaos.
Exasperated, I removed my mask but the man remained impassive.
It dawned on me – he must be blind and deaf but how was he cutting meat with such precision?
“Awwuuuuu!” he unexpectedly responded.
Alarm seized me. I fled the scene with reckless abandon, executing frantic backflips.
“Blake!” I shouted, sprinting to keep up with my twin brother.
He was already ahead, the frying pan brimming with stolen meat.
“Awwuuuuu!” The blind man’s distant cry sent shivers down my spine.
As I ran, I noticed leaves passing through my body.
“Wait…did I faint back at the market?” I wondered, horrified. “How can my spirit run, leaving my body behind?”
“Blake!” I screamed but he vanished into the darkness.
The thought of the blind psychopath’s intentions for my corporeal form sent me racing back.
“Oh Lord, have mercy!” I prayed, hastening my return.
