(in a spooky voice around a campfire)
20 years ago today – it was a dark and stormy night. Lightning crashed into the old clock tower. The wind roared. Thunder boomed. It would have been impossible to drive in these conditions.
Ghouls and ghosts gallivanted around town, haunting and spooking and scaring all along the way. They all moved on foot, of course, because it was.. way too dangerous to drive.
The power had gone out in 667 Blood Lane, Apartment 4F. Inside, in his bedroom, Steven sat with a blanket wrapped around him and held his flashlight, slowly scanning the room. He heard a sudden crash. Was it a vampire? A goblin? A driver foolish enough to head out in this treacherous weather? He was too afraid to check. Instead, he got up and grabbed his battery powered radio.
The radio turned on by itself. He heard whispers. “We’re.. all.. dead..” murmured the voices. He ignored that and quickly changed the dial to the state emergency channel. Just as he’d suspected – all the roads were closed. “And it’s a g-g-g-good thing, too.” He said to himself. “Someone could get really hurt sk-sk-sk-skidding on wet leaves.”
Across town, a group of zombies entered a train car. They all agreed that it was the safer decision to take the train rather than drive. They may be dead, but they weren’t.. irresponsible…
(all the campers have left the campfire out of boredom by now)