They sincerely tried to escape the house. But when the wheel popped clean off of Grandpa’s carefully maintained car—a car that had outlived countless relatives and was taken care of with all the tenderness of a baby—they knew they weren’t going anywhere.
“Dad’s going to kill me,” said Mr. Hanes gloomily, examining the dislocated wheel.
Mrs. Hanes, in the driver’s seat, offered no comment. Their two kids, Amy and Mike, looked at each other uneasily.
Yesterday, the Imp and I read a most provocative post prompt. The “Brand New You, Effective Tomorrow,” was very interesting to me—I have a secret itch to be the hula hoop artist in Cirque du Soleil—but Wallie was indignant. He couldn’t think of anyone he would rather be.
He told my friend in Impish (the language of the Imps) that he wouldn’t be anyone with less than eight arms and six eyes. I don’t know why he didn’t throw in two heads. But he was very adamant, and that was that.
Wallie supposes it is a little late to say “Hello, November.”
Wallie the Imp has a sharp sweet-tooth, and his favorite holiday season definitely spans from October to December. He loves to go Trick-or-Treating because no one ever suspects him, and he always looks forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner.
Wallie the Imp is very excited about Halloween. In response to the Daily Post’s challenge on blending genres and styles, I decided to help him write an instructional guide on how to make your Halloween decorations happy in their new home.
This is fantasy from an instructional point of view.