Al
Phantom Phonebook
Gather around whippersnappers, I'm about to tell you a very scary Halloween tale. A tale like no others that took place not so long ago in a place very close. This is NOT for the faint of heart. Not even quite. It all started on a rather tranquil morning as I walked outside in the morning mist to retrieve the yellow bag on the sidewalk. I should have known better and leave it to the wind to blow away or the school children to pick it up on the way to the bus stop. My friends, this would set the story in motion. A story that never had an appropriate ending...it may be over however, if not, God help me and all the other souls that have been tormented by "The Phantom Phonebook".
It was the middle of October that I first encountered Satan himself. As the neighbors decorate their homes in scary motif (and some people actually start hanging up Christmas lights!) I realize the yellow bag out front is a gift from a large publishing company that once went under the alias of "R.R. Donelly". I reached down once I realized that this occurs every year around this time, picked it up, and stepped back inside to examine "The Yellow Pages" ...A mystery in itself! Who in their right mind still uses a primiative tool like this to actually sit down and thumb through, all in an effort to find the number of Domino's Pizza? Not me. I need some kind of connection to a human when looking for answers and besides, by the time I look up the number, the pizza would have been baking in the oven, almost done. All a phone book does is add extra minutes to an already busy schedule. No, me, I prefer the 411 approach to fact finding which is why I have no use for a book like this. If bad comes to worse, I may use the Internet to find a phone number, but even that is rare. I placed the book in the basement, my mind already made up that I would never utilize it. That was that... er, so I thought. The next day I open the curtains to see a yellow bag on the sidewalk again. Perplexed, I again step outside to discover the telephone book was able to not only vanish from my basement, but was able to astrally project itself back outside. Something was wrong somewhere. Perhaps yesterday's phone book was a figment of my imagination. I went back inside and made my way downstairs trying to convince myself that I wouldn't find anything unusual. The stairs creaked as I went down one step at a time to ease my mind. There on the table, exactly how I left it yesterday, was the telephone book! It was an eerir feeling to realize that I had now been ealt a difficult hand to play. One of these books will have to go! "I'll put it outside tomorrow in the recycle bin" I said to myself and made my way back upstairs where I tried to forget about the events that left me with two Yellow Pages books from the exact same publisher. This morning, I awoke to a smack hitting the sidewalk. "God help me!" I thought. "Here we go again!". The anxiety was beginning to build. For I had known that once I pull apart the curtains, the noise I heard will be physically there AGAIN, in a YELLOW BAG. It was up to me to decide quickly if I wanted to be put in the position of finding the book out there again. I ripped open the curtains as quick as I could AND, NOTHING! The sidewalk was empty all except for the morning paper. I was scared, shaken, and stirred when I began to realize that this chain of events had finally ended. I shuddered with disbelief and terror when picturing papermills in Utah and Washington State working overtime to cut down trees and produce these books off the press faster than a speeding bullet. It made me sick for a minute and then I ate breakfast. Dammit, my Lucky Charms are more important than a forest full of trees! All remained calm for a good portion of the day. I was able to regain my composure and move ahead. For this event had seemingly ended as abruptly as it began. The wind then began to pick up, and the trees which were painted with brilliant shades of red, orange and yellow began yo rain down leaves erratically. The window panes rattled and the sky grew more dismal. All the excitement made me run to the window. When there, as sure as I'm standing, it was the return of "Yellow Book"! That was it! It was now up to me to save the neighborhood from what seemed as an inevitable invasion not seen or heard at any caliber since Orson Welles' famous, War of the Worlds ! I grabbed the cell phone and my friends, opened the Yellow Book for the first time to find the number of the person responsible for initiating this assault of soy based ink and paper. The adrenaline level in my bloodstream was racing as I waited for someone to pick up my call. Finally, a lady answered and I began to spin this very same tale wondering why I've been cursed by a phonebook that doesn't want to go away. Like a recipe for a witches brew, she began to rattle off specific instructions that I jotted down on a scratch pad. "You must take these books and tear them to pieces!" She instructed. "You then must place them in the proper place where refuse is normally picked up" she continued. "Huh?" I asked. ..."She simply repied, "the garbage. You see Sir" she explained, "someone on that route made a mistake and gave you three books by mistake. Now, go and do the right thing before it's too late!" At that very moment, I began to rip and tear like a madman when I heard a repetative beeping sound. It was the garbage truck from Waste Management here to pick up the garbage! I made sure all the contents were in the can as I handed it over to the six guys working on the back of the truck. The big metal blade came down as I saw loose pages try to get away. It indeed was too late. The horror jad finally ended. Legend has it that the ghosts of Yellow Books from the past often times won't decompose in the landfill. That means, it may happen all over again next year. I suggest we all start to prepare, OR ELSE!
