Scarebnb: A Halloween Review

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OMG this place was literally a nightmare. If you have a choice between spending the night in an open grave filled with the corpses of murdered orphans or at Jaundiced Entrails B&B, well, I would say the B&B but only because it’s closer to the airport.

We should have suspected something was up when we arrived at our check-in time. “Rustic,” the guidebook said. More like “decomposing.” And the neighborhood was appalling. On one side, an ancient Indian burial ground serving as a foreboding portal to the Dimension of the Dead; on the other side: Arby’s.

Nevertheless, my husband and I are used to roughing it, so we walked up the steps that seemed to creak “dooom, doooom, doooom…” and definitely needed a coat of paint.

I pressed the doorbell with my index finger, which was sporting a Sumerian-beetle scarab ring that had turned up mysteriously on my doorstep one morning tied to a mutilated crow – so many stray cats on our street. Just thought I’d mention that.

Anyway, the “person” who answered the door was terribly rude. She would not even look us in the eye. Turned out later she had no eyes, but still. If you’re going to run a B&B, you should at least have manners. And eyeballs.

Plus, she had this cackling, high-pitched voice. My husband asked a simple question about whether there was a code for the WIFI and she screeched, “ALL is ALL is ALL is COMINGGGG! Glaxnacht is NIGH!” I mean, who could remember a password that long! Write it down beside the coffee maker at least.

Oh, I know why: no coffee maker. Not even an electric kettle and a selection of herbal teas. Just a plain old altar with ritual instruments of slaughter that definitely hadn’t been cleaned since the last guests. Was that a hair? Gross. Was that a severed ear? Double gross. Not exactly “sanitized for your protection.” More like “sacrificed for your revulsion.”

The poor service continued when we had to call for fresh towels after the bathtub started spewing black, sulphurous goo. Our host took, like, forever to crawl up the stairs. Literally crawl up the stairs, like a crab, with her head backwards. Like she was deliberately trying to be as slow as possible. Very passive-aggressive.

Speaking of “host,” I thought I’d get on her good side after the towel nonsense and thank her for being such a “gracious” host. “No. YOU’RE the host!” she sneered. Then she invited us down to play Scrabble. OMG senile too! And the breath. Like something died inside her. Which would explain the maggots crawling out of her shirt sleeves.

“I am NOT cleaning those up,” I told my husband, who was busy trying to get anything on the TV. But, no, nothing but static that sounded like the agonizing moans of the damned. And PBS. And it was another Peter, Paul and Mary special! Scary!

We flipped through the books on the shelf but nothing interesting: Book of the Dead; Book of the Dead 2: Dead by Breakfast; Book of the Dead III: The Housekeeping. Redundant much?

There wasn’t much to do besides watch the blood dripping down the walls, and that got old pretty fast, so we decided to go to bed. And this is where what to now had been uncomfortable got downright horrifying: polyester sheets! I turned to march downstairs to complain, and I swear, right then, our host materialized through the wall! No privacy whatsoever!

“I will not be caught dead sleeping on this,” I said.

“Oh, you’ll be caught,” she laughed, and then, with a boom, the lights went out. OMG now a power outage. Luckily there was an otherworldly glow coming from the bathroom. So we coldly said goodnight to our host, who seemed to be having a spell, or maybe she was muttering a spell, I’m not sure, and we crawled into “bed.”

What a night. If it wasn’t the spectral figures lurking in the corners, it was the spiders crawling out of my husband’s mouth (but at least it stopped his snoring LOL). The radiator also clanked. And I can’t swear this for sure but I’m certain that a demonic presence descended on my body and plunged an icy hand into my very soul. Or there might have been a cat in the room.

All I know is that when I woke up, my ring was missing, our host was nowhere to be found and the spirits of the dead were walking the scorched, desolate earth. Just awful!

But one star because there were fresh blueberry muffins in the kitchen, and they were delicious.

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About rossmurray1

I'm Canadian so I pronounce it "Aboot." No, I don't! I don't know any Canadian who says "aboot." Damnable lies! But I do know this Canadian is all about humour (with a U) and satire. Come by. I don't bite, or as we Canadians say, "beet."
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23 Responses to Scarebnb: A Halloween Review

  1. Lynn Love says:

    I’m pretty sure I’ve stayed in this place – no muffins when we stayed though, on the still-beating heart of the last resident.
    Just plain funny 🙂

  2. Peter, Paul and Mary?! Oh, the horror!
    This post was brilliant and wickedly funny. (It should be Freshly Pressed…or “Discovered”…or whatever the cool kids are calling it these days…)

  3. List of X says:

    Well, I hate to break it to the reviewer, but those were FLESH blueberry muffins.

  4. byebyebeer says:

    The ring was missing and showed up…in my dream. Spooooky. Ok this was most excellent. I just spent hours perusing yelp reviews for a place we’re eating at this weekend because passive-aggressive reviews are a fascinating genre. So many nice touches in this one…should be required reading.

  5. ksbeth says:

    i’d say that the muffins make it all worthwhile –

  6. pinklightsabre says:

    That’s freaking hysterical. I got nothing on that. Dropping my beer bottle now and slinking off, like a crab, head backwards, all that. LOL

  7. I love a good Arby’s burn. There’s a Simpson’s episode where all the schoolchildren end up on an island a la Lord of the Flies, and one girl says, ‘I’m so hungry, I could eat at Arby’s,’ and all the other kids say, ‘Ooooh, that is hungry.’ My kids and I say, ‘I’m so hungry, I could eat at Arby’s’ all the time.

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