A Scary Story As Told by CRESSY! Or How I Steal Material From My Daughter OR Halloween is Coming!

Recently, my seven year old daughter, Cressy, came to me and said, "Do you want to hear a scary story, Mommy?"  Of course, I had to say, "Yes.  I love scary stories.  I love Cressy's scary stories."

Parental Disclaimer:  Cressy totally did not watch the movie, Scream.

I'm not certain what motivated this particular story.  She had her guitar out and it was obvious that she was going to have musical accompaniment for the tale of terror.

So here it goes, as told by my daughter and illustrated by me.  Smart-assed comments interjected at will because, well, I can't not do it.  (Really, I can't.)

Cressy's Scary Story (almost verbatim):

Once there was a desert.  In the desert there were horses, rattlesnakes, and cactus's.  The horses whinnied.  The rattlesnakes rattled.  And the cactus's...hmm...the cactus's...um...the cactus's cactused.  Yeah, that's it.  (And yes, this is the true way that this was told to me.  The cactus's did, indeed, go cactusedity.)

Cressy's desert.  I wasn't sure how a cactus cactused
so I ad libbed.  I think it works.

And there were coyotes.  (Here's where the musical accompaniment came in.  I'm truly sorry I can't have audio here, so I'll do my best writing to encourage your imagination.)  *Strum!*  (*Strum!* is the sound of Cressy strumming in a malevolent movie-music sounding manner.  Come on, you can totally hear this in your mind.  For further clarification, it's the moment in time where the music starts playing in the movie where the nubile young cheerleader is about to get decapitated by the man in a Bill Clinton mask wielding a massive Maori sword.  It could be worse, you know, it could be a guy in a Hilary Clinton mask wielding a cigar.  And oh, I can't help it: *strum.*)  So anyway, there were...coyotes.  (Big, suspense building pause here.)  *Strum!*

Really not sure if I captured the essence of the penultimate twang
of this moment.  Whateveh.

These were bad coyotes.  They howled.  (There was a demonstration.)  They howled a lot.  And they liked to hunt...people.  (Wait for it.)  *Strum!*

Yes, the lips do, in fact, extend that far out.

But these were really bad coyotes.  (As opposed to just bad coyotes.)  They hunted people so they could...eat them.  (Here's the good moment.)  *Strum!*

(There was another pause here so the listener can truly absorb the horror and intensity of the terrifying tale of animals gone wrongity-wrong-wrong.)  And these coyotes would eat a lot of people.  *Strum!*

(It's my belief that I was supposed to gasp at that moment, so I did.  And Cressy obviously approved of my abject fear of man-eating coyotes because she nodded and then...)  *Strum!*

So in the middle of the night when it was really quiet, the coyotes would go hunting.  (Here it comes again.)  *Strum!*

And they would get you, Mommy.  (Uh-oh, this story seems to be taking a turn for the worse.)  *Strum!*

And they would eat you, Mommy.  (I'm not sure what brought about this need for my gruesomely bloody ending, but it could have something to do with the fact that I didn't let her stay up to 8 PM the other night or possibly that I won't let her have the Screaming Eagle tattoo on her derriere.  One or the other.)  *Strum!*

Then they eat your arms!  *Strum!*

Then they eat your legs!  *Strum!*

And you're still alive, Mommy!  *Strum!*  (Wow, have I really ticked off my 7 year old daughter or what?)

They eat your...tummy!  *Strum!*

And you're still alive, Mommy!  *Strum!*  (Remarkably and I'm still listening to the story.)

Then, Mommy...*Strum!*, *Strum!*, *Strum!*...they eat your head!

*Strum!* *Strum!* *Strum!* *Strum!* *Strum!* *Strum!*

The end.

(I think we're gearing up for Halloween.  Just a thought.)