As the decadent strains of Alien Sex Fiend echo through the mausoleum, I can’t help but feel a bit nostalgic. There’s nothing quite like the thrill of youth: the innocence, the sense of wonder, the pulse. I was quite spooky once upon a time in that distant, dreamy past. But death has a way of mellowing a man. Settling down in a tomb-for-two with the witchy Bride was by far the best decision I’ve made since I’ve been dead, and we’ve decided to throw open the doors to our magic mausoleum to share our love of haunting and the lessons we’ve learned along the way with you, our frightening friends, both living and dead. As Messiah Marcolin casts his doomy spell a few plots over, I will endeavor to write this first blog post in my own, honest, churchyard-spun fashion, devoid of despair and mournful overtones. Here there is only beauty in the darkness and a deep abiding love for all of the varieties of life and death around us. With that said, I’d like to address an issue most of us can relate to and that one ghostling in particular has recently mailed me about.
Peeved in Purgatory writes:
Dear Mr. Ogden,
I’ve only been dead for a short time, but I’m already sick of these cemetery tourists! It’s not all of them, of course, just one group that’s been trashing the place and keeping everyone awake and cranky. They started coming to The Infinite Fields cemetery a few months ago and their parties have become wilder and more frequent. I feel like I’m at the end of my rope…again. I’ve tried approaching and asking them to leave, but they just ignore me. I’m still new to this whole ghost thing and I’m not sure what my options are. Please help me!
-Peeved in Purgatory
While I agree that silence is silver, there are times when the best solution is Everything Louder Than Everything Else. Respect for others is of the utmost importance and I certainly did my best to live a life of pacifism, but there are times when action is necessary. These obnoxious breathers are not only disrespecting the memory of the departed, but disturbing their rest. It’s inexcusable! Cemetery picnics are a wonderful way for the living to enjoy the sweet atmosphere of our home turf before checking in for good. However, when these picnics become parties…noisy, trampling parties, they must be put in check. My advice, Peeved, is to make some noise. Scream, howl, rattle chains, blare Bauhaus on a loop, and do not let up until your home is clear of these living losers. Now is no time for subtlety. It may seem counterintuitive to solve a noise complaint with more noise, but the rock and roll gambit was a first line of defense for the dead long before the beating hearts discovered the beat. Make a playlist of the most terrifying tunes you can think of and embellish them with your own ghostly discord. You’ll find yourself pest free and may even hear whispers of the tale from future thrill seekers too afraid to do much more than tiptoe through your gruesome graveyard.
That’s it for the first entry from the other side! Hope everyone can join us next time as we answer more letters from ruffled relics and muse on mortality with our nerveless neighbors here at the Magic Mausoleum.