THE TRAILER PARK HAUNTED BOAT

By Mystic Madam Misty Merkel
PART I
I am drenched. I just got back from a swim in Lake Michigan. Swimming around out in Lake Michigan while holding onto a piece of driftwood to stay afloat while several sharks are circling, is no way to spend a Saturday afternoon. I suppose I am lucky because there were so many lightning strikes all around me that it kept the sharks stirred up too much to make me into a meal. I was so afraid of the lightning being attracted to my metal jewelry that I even tossed my rings that were made out of genuine nuclear charged cadmium imported from a power plant in China. My very special rings glowed all the way down to the bottom of Lake Michigan. I was just lucky the coast guard came along and picked me up or I might have ended up dinner for one of those sharks.

I can’t believe I ended up in the drink today. Yesterday I was looking forward to spending my Saturday taking an adult education class on palm reading at the local community college. The government was paying for it since palm reading is considered “one of those skills needed to revitalize America while changing it into a servant economy“. I guess I got that quote right. I’m trying to remember it from the brochure.

Well, I was just sitting there at my kitchen table contemplating on my palm reading class and having my usual early morning Irish coffee when someone started pounding on my door. When I opened the door I was surprised to see about ten of my neighbors standing there. “We need your help Madam Misty,” one of them called out.

“We have a really bad problem” another voice cried.

“What in the world is wrong?” I asked.

Marcie Wrinklebottom sobbed “It’s my dead husband Frank. He’s come back from the grave. He spent all last night a hollering and screaming on his old boat. Everyone in the trailer park heard him. Didn’t you? ”

Marcie Wrinklebottom lived about four trailers down from me. Next to her trailer was parked a big old wood fishing boat that used to belong to her late husband Frank. Now Frank spent most of his marriage on that boat. He seldom took it out on the Great Lakes but, he spent most of his time drinking beer and smoking in the cuddy cabin while the boat sat beside the trailer. Frank always complained that he had never caught any fish out on Lake Michigan. He said his dream was to come back home with a great big salmon that he had caught on the shoals of Big Manitou Island. I guess that is where old Frank liked to fish. Anyway, the last time Frank went out there was a terrible storm and the boat ended up crashed up on the shoreline with a big hole in its bow. The widow Wrinklebottom had the boat parked beside her trailer. She figured that if Frank ever showed up again he would feel at home seeing his old boat parked in the spot it had sat in for the better part of 20 years.

I knew what these people wanted. They obviously wanted me to use my psychic abilities to contact Frank to see what the old fellow wanted. So, I told them that I would go on board the boat that night and talk to old Frank and see what he wanted so his spirit could move on to great beyond and/or rest in peace or something. The main thing was to just get old Frank out of the trailer park so everyone living here could have a little peace and quiet. My agreeing to contact Frank Wrinklebottom seemed to calm everybody down. I of course got my most powerful spiritual items around to use during the séance. My most powerful physic items are of course my Petoskey stones I also had to a lot to do that day to get ready for the séance. I had to make a trip to the dollar store and buy about a hundred candles. Ghosts seem to be big on mood lightning so naturally you have to have candles.

Unfortunately, the only person I could get to help me with this spiritual conundrum was an associate of mine at the Humor News Nuts organization. His name was Gerrard and boy, is he a real strange guy. He lives in his mother’s basement. He also raises rats down there. He inherited the rat business from his old man when he died. His grandparents were famous for raising worms and bloodsuckers (leeches). In short, Gerrard comes from a family of persons who I consider not quite right in the head. At the last minute, Mrs. Wrinklebottom decided not to attend the séance. She said the whole thing would be just too upsetting for her so she would just stay in her trailer and wait for us to tell her what had gone on.


PART II
Everything was ready for the séance. I had set the candles out around and inside the boat. It took a while to light them all but, Gerrard and I finally got the candles to burn. They were cheap, probably old candles that I picked up at the dollar store. The widow Wrinklebottom only gave me $50.00 for supplies to be used during the séance to contact her late husband Frank. I bought the 2/$1.00 tapered candles but, I couldn’t get them all the same color. Some spooks are particular about having the candles match but, I figured that since Frank considered himself to be some old salty seadog that he wouldn’t be too fussy.

Gerrard set up a card table and a couple of chairs onboard the boat. Gerrard and I sat down in the chairs with the Petoskey stones on the table and candles burning all around us. The candles were not only of several different colors but, had several different scents. I figured it smelled a bit like a funeral home so I hoped a spook like Frank would feel relaxed. His body was never found so maybe he’d figure we were giving him the send off he never got and would just leave everyone in the trailer park alone.

We waited until just after the sun went down then, lo and behold who should appear but, old man Frank Wrinklebottom in person (but, not in the flesh). He was kind of a faded out apparition. After a couple of moments he started to have a little bit of color. At least I could tell what he was wearing. He had a captain’s hat on along with a plaid short-sleeved shirt and white pants. He wore laced up sneakers and white cotton socks. After 20 years I thought his clothes looked pretty clean. For a spook he was also well shaven. A lot of ghosts that live on boats like to look a bit grizzly with regards to facial hair in order to achieve that “come hither” supernatural effect. At least that’s been true since the show “Miami Vice”. Waterfront spooks all think that they’re some sort of Don Johnson.

I was starting to get a bit perturbed because Frank just stood there not saying a thing. After all the work I did setting up the séance and now Frank was going to pull some sort of mute ghost twenty question guessing game on me. Some dead people want you to guess what is bothering them and then they will answer you with a knock or moan or chill or some other stupid answer. I decided to be direct so I asked, “So Frank, now that you’ve got us here what the heck do you want? You‘d better answer me directly with real words and sentences. If you don’t speak plainly then, I‘m going to blow out your candles and then I’m going home. I‘ve had a long day and I‘ve got a class on palm reading to attend tomorrow. I‘ve already paid for the class and I won‘t get reimbursed by the government for job retraining unless I actually attend the full three hours of it.”

The ghost must have been moved by my speech because he said in a very plain voice, “I’ve come back from the grave because I want to go fishing. I need to go fishing on this boat and off the Coast of Big Manitou Island. In short, I need to catch a fish. I also need to do something else but, I forget what it is right now. I just know I’ve got to go fishing and I won’t stop haunting your trailer park until you take me.”

The old ghost of Frank Wrinklebottom seemed to be begging like a little kid. I had no choice but to agree to take him on a fishing trip the next morning. “One more thing,” the ghost said as I was blowing out the candles and getting ready to leave, “make sure my wife Marcie is on the boat with us. I really want her along to watch me catch my first fish.”

PART III
The next day Marcie Wrinklebottom, Gerrard and, I drove up to Northport Harbor. Some guys in the trailer park put boats in and out of the water for a living. They patched the boat and had hauled it up to Northport ahead of us so they could ready it and get it launched. One big problem we had was that the engine on the boat had set up and would not turnover. The boat launch guys said they had a small aluminum boat that they could use to pull the boat out to the Manitou Islands as long as the seas didn’t get too rough.

When we arrived at the harbor we found that our boat was ready and waiting for us. We climbed aboard and the little tin boat started to pull us out of the harbor. We were on our way to Manitou Island. The water was calm that morning so it didn’t take too long before we were far enough out that I decided to wake up our ghost to see if he was ready to go fishing. I and Gerrard went down into the cuddy cabin to summon Frank. Marcie did not want to go down below to see her departed husband. It took the whole neighborhood to persuade her to go on this trip. I wasn’t sure if Marcie was afraid of water or if she really did not want to see her husband Frank. I thought she would like to talk to him after all; she kept his old boat right beside her trailer for twenty years. She wanted to keep an eye on his old tub but, she insisted on staying topside when she finally had a chance to reunite with her old love.

Once down below deck, I lit a candle and Frank immediately appeared. I had Gerrard go up on deck with him. There was a fishing line all set for Frank to use. I only hoped Frank would catch a fish. While Frank and Gerrard were up on deck I decided to nose around in the cuddy cabin. There was something really wrong with this whole operation. Frank and Marcie were both holding back about something and I wondered what it was. I figured the sooner I found out the sooner I could get back to shore and to may class. I still had a few hours before my palm reading class started and I was hopeful that I could still make it.

As I was looking around, Gerrard bounded down the steps into the cabin. When he reached the bottom of the steps he said, “It’s starting to get a bit rough out. It was nice out when we left but I think a storm is starting to form right over head. You know there is something I should tell you about this area.”

“And what is that Gerrard?” I asked.

“Well Madam Misty, we’re in what is known as ‘The Devils Trapezoid‘. This is an area that is outlined by connecting on a map the Little Manitou Island, the Big Manitou Island, the town of Northport and, the town of Benzonia. Thousands of boats, ships and planes have mysteriously sunk to the bottom of Lake Michigan in these waters. There have been a couple of nasty train wrecks on the shoreline as well. A hot air balloon sprung a leak here last summer. I think you get the picture. Now, we are out here on a ghost ship with a ghost and a storm is forming right overhead. I believe we are in trouble.”

I had to agree with Gerrard. Gerrard was a Ghost Scene Investigator so I did have to respect his opinions when it comes to wayward spirits. Gerrard agreed to help me look around the cuddy cabin for some clues. Unfortunately, Gerrard stumbled across a really bad thing. In what looked to be a closet Gerrard came across a full human skeleton dressed just like Frank Wrinklebottom. This particular skeleton was hanging up with a fish fillet knife through the rib cage. It was obvious that Frank hadn’t gone overboard and drowned but, had instead been murdered. The prime suspect for the murder was up on the deck right now. I was wondering how Frank and his wife might be getting along when suddenly, the patch in the hull broke open and the cuddy cabin began to flood.

Gerrard and I ran up to the deck. Lightning was flashing all around us and the boat was being thrown about on waves that seemed to be going in every direction at once. We were in the perfect storm. I looked around but, Frank and Marcie were both gone. Evidently, Frank must have taken Marcie overboard. Now his boat was sinking and the two guys in the dingy were no where to be seen. The next thing I knew I was in the drink. A Piece of a branch floated by so I grabbed it. The boat and Gerrard were now gone. I was all alone in the storm hanging onto a small piece of wood. I was having a really bad day. I knew that I would never make it to my palm reading class. I was so disappointed that I would never get reimbursed from the government for the money I spent on the class.

Finally, a fishing boat pulled me out of the water and took me back to port. Gerrard and the two guys with the dingy were there. They guys said that they didn’t see me out there. They also said that Gerrard was so heavy that after they pulled on board their small boat it was almost under water. They then hurried in before lightning turned their aluminum boat into an aluminum fry pan. It seems the only person that didn’t make it back was Mrs. Wrinklebottom. Her husband had set this whole fishing trip up as just a way to get her out on the water so he could get his revenge.

Unfortunately for me I missed my palm reading class and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to get a refund for it. I know one thing for sure and that is that I am never going back out on Lake Michigan again. I’m not even going to eat fish anymore. All my cans of tuna are going to go to the neighbor’s cats.


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MY MICHIGAN FAMILY GHOST STORY

After World War II ended, my father Lee (Buster), decided to study accounting at Ferris State College in Big Rapids Michigan. He and my mother, Dorothy, rented several apartments over the years they spent in Big Rapids most of them, were really old and in bad shape. Finally, they settled into an old house on Bjornson Street with my sisters 2 year old Trina and, six year old Sandy. A friend of theirs, an English woman named Maureen with two little boys of her own, agreed to rent one of the rooms in the house to help defray costs. Maureen had husband who was still in the service but, she and her two sons had moved to America to her husband’s home town.

The two families, 3 adults and 4 children, liked the old house at first. It was near the campus and the factory where my father worked nights. My mother had a part time job at a restaurant just off the main campus. After a few days, things began to change at the old house. Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, there were footsteps heard, slowing coming up the creaking stairway. Whenever anyone looked, no one was ever there.

One night, Sandy was in the bathroom and, when she looked in the mirror, there was a large man standing behind her in a black trench coat with a large hat. She did not see any face under the hat. She screamed and screamed until my mother and her friend Maureen ran into the bathroom. The two women did not see any man in a trench coat. They calmed down my sister and gathered all the children together in the master bedroom while the two ladies searched the house.

My mother and her friend Maureen decided to first check out the front door to see if maybe some bum had wandered in off the street. It was winter and had been snowing outside so, someone might have tried to get warm at the first place they came upon. The front door was made of oak and was bolted shut from the inside. My mother lifted the bolt and opened the door. Both women were shocked to find a set of men’s footprints in the fresh fallen snow. It was the only pair of footprints and had to have been made recently since the snow was coming down hard. The scary thing was the set of men’s tracks led all the way up to the door and that was it. There was no sign of any tracks leading away from the house only up to the door. But, the man could not have gotten into the house because the door was bolted shut from the inside.

My mother and her friend were now quite worried and after checking on the children again, they went on a room by room search, checking all the other doors and windows first downstairs, then upstairs, then finally, they went up to the attic.The attic was full of old cloths and old furniture but, there was no man in a trench coat.

No one slept the rest of the night and, when my father got home in the morning from his job; he immediately researched the entire house and found no man in a trench coat. My father went outside to take a look around the house when he noticed that the old couple across the street, who were always watching out their front window, was outside standing in the snow. They seemed agitated and he couldn't’t tell if it was from the cold or if they wanted to say something to him. My father went over to them and asked them if they had seen anything or anyone peculiar hanging around the outside of the house. The old couple replied that 'there was some really strange stuff that went on in that house". They told him a man had murdered his wife and family there with an ax. Then, he hung himself. “That place is haunted and you had better get out of there.” They warned my father.

My parents and their friend Maureen found another place to live and moved out that day. Several years latter when my niece was attending Ferris State College, she went to visit the old haunted house at the location my mother had told her. My niece reported that it was still standing and, no one was living there or had lived there in a very long time.

CARNIVORES IN THE CORN MAZE

This time of year, the corn maze is a popular stop for many people looking for some fall fun. This year I received a call from the Van Wooten farm which is located in Grand Traverse County. The caller was Mr. Van Wooten .He was very concerned that some of their guests have been going into the corn maze but never coming out. The parking area was full of vehicles and Mr. Van Wooten was afraid that he would have to take out a mortgage on his farm to pay to have all the vehicles towed away. I asked him how many cars and trucks he was talking about and he replied that at last count there were 37 abandoned vehicles. I agreed to investigate the mystery of the missing guest. Gerrard, a coworker, agreed to help me look around the Van Wooten farm.

The Van Wooten farm has one of the most popular and difficult to navigate corn mazes in the area. The Van Wooten family has been farming the land for more than 60 years. The farm house was big and white. There were two red barns and several other outbuildings and two silos at the end of the largest barn. The farm raised primarily corn but, the Van Wooten family also sold fruits and vegetables from their garden and mini orchard. When Gerrard and I pulled up the driveway we saw Mr. Van Wooten standing on his porch waiting for us. I almost freaked out when I saw all the vehicles parked to one side of the house near the entrance of the corn maze.

There were about a dozen high school kids and a couple of families walking into the corn maze. Evidently the maze was still open for business. Gerrard and I went up to the porch where Mr. Van Wooten was standing. Mr. Van Wooten was about 35 years old, clean cut and clean shaved. Mr. Van Wooten greeted us “Hello Boys. What can I do for you?”

I introduced us “My name is Ted Colin and this is Gerrard my associate. We are here to investigate the problems you’re having with your corn maze.”

“Well,” began Van Wooten, “the problem is that a lot of people have been going in but not too many ever make it out. I even sent my dog in and he never came out. I’d go in myself but I’m allergic to corn stalks. I get all itchy and watery eyed and break out in a rash. My wife handles the business at the maze. She’s busy inside now with some housework. She just took in some money from those people over there disappearing into the maze. I sure hope a few of them make it out.”

I asked Mr. Van Wooten if he’d mind us looking around the maze and he said, “Be my guest. I won’t even charge you. In fact, if you can solve the mystery I’ll let you have any vehicle on the lot if you know how to hot wire it of course. I already checked them all and the keys must have gone with the owners into the maze.”

Before Gerrard and I could enter the maze, a horrible old lady appeared at the entrance. She was so wrinkled it was hard to find her mouth and eyes on her face. She had less than a hundred long gray hairs on her head and her skin was as gray as her hair. Her fingers were long and bony with long jagged yellow fingernails on the tips. She raised a long bony index finger and she gave us a warning in a shrill, dramatically slow voice, “Many people go in this corn maze but, few ever come out. Be wary or you will be its next victims.”

“Thanks lady,” I said. Then Gerrard and I proceeded into the maze. We did not travel more than 20 feet down the maze when everything became suddenly dark. We turned around and the entrance to the maze was gone. Nightfall had come and we were trapped inside the mysterious corn maze. We continued down the maze and found that around each bend in the maze there was a single lit teekee torch. After about the second bend, we started to encounter Jack-O-Lanterns. At first there were just a few down each corridor but suddenly, there were dozens. Each corridor was only about 50 feet long so we were surrounded by Jack-O-Lanterns. Each Jack-O-Lantern seemed to have the same grimacing smile with long, saw tooth like fangs.

“Every time I turn around I end up with my foot in the mouth of one of these Jack-O-Lanterns,” complained Gerrard. “I hope we don’t get in trouble for stepping on them.”

Suddenly, we heard some screaming and yelling ahead of us. “Sounds like it gets spookier up ahead,” Gerrard observed. “The people ahead of us sound like they’re having a really good time.”

“I guess so,” I answered nervously. There just seemed to be something wrong going on. I wasn’t quite sure what it was?

I found that my feet and ankles were constantly ending up in the mouth of one of the pumpkin heads. I had to keep kicking the Jack-O-Lanterns off my legs like I have to kick off Madam Misty Merkel’s dog. You can’t go over to her trailer without her dog all over you. The pumpkins were even worse since there were hundreds of them and they were a lot bigger than the dog. In fact, as we proceeded through the maze the pumpkins we were encountering seemed to be getting bigger. Finally, we got to some that were as tall as our shins. These seemed to have some red liquid dripping off the fangs. Gerrard and I figured that red jelly must have been used to make people think the pumpkins had blood dripping from their mouths.

Around the next bend we observed what we thought were fake blood soaked body parts lying around. We saw a couple of heads, some arms and a leg were stuck in the mouth of a really huge Jack-O-Lantern which gave the affect that the leg was being eaten. Then we came to a dead end in the maze. We turned to walk back the way we came but, somehow hundreds of large Jack-O-Lanterns were blocking the path. They were crowded on top of each other so high they rose above the corn maze.

“Well, we’re trapped," I said. "What do we do now?”

Gerrard shoved some corn stalks aside and said, “I think we can just shove these corn stocks apart and walk right through these rows until we get to the outside.” Gerrard started forward and I followed. After going through about 15 walls of corn we were on the outside of the corn maze again. To our surprise it was still daylight out. The sun had not set after all. We had only been in the corn maze for about 20 minutes.

Gerrard and I went up to porch where the farmer was still standing. “We didn’t find anything,” I reported to the farmer. “Nice special effects though with the fake bloody body parts and all the Jack-O-Lanterns.”

“Body parts? Jack-O-Lanterns?” said Mr. Van Wooten with a surprised look on his face. “There aren’t any bloody body parts or Jack-O-Lanterns in the corn maze. All we have are teekee torches. We don’t even grow Jack-O-Lanterns anymore.”

“Then where did the Jack-O-Lanterns come from?” I asked.

“Well boys,” Mr. Wooten began, “years ago we used to grow pumpkins that could one day be carved into Jack-O-Lanterns. We sold pumpkins to people that came out here and we even supplied many of the grocery stores in the area. Then one day, my wife went crazy. She started smashing pumpkins with a baseball bat. She destroyed them. She destroyed the entire crop and over there where the corn maze is today is where we buried them all. That is our pumpkin cemetery. The rotting dead pumpkins have been good for the soil. That’s why we can raise such tall thick corn there for our corn maze. “

“What about the old lady we met on the way into the maze?” I asked.

“Well, there isn’t any old lady here on this farm. My mom and dad are in Florida and my grandma moved down state to take care of her grandparents. “

“Wow,” I exclaimed. “When we went in there was this really ugly, gnarly, wrinkled up old hag that warned us that we might not make it out. She was really horrible looking. Her skin was gray colored like she was a corpse and she was nearly bald. She must have been a hundred years old. She was a real ugly old witch.”

“There’s nobody around here that looks like that son. I’ve never seen anybody as horrible looking as you just described. Well, it seems we have some more mysteries. It‘s too bad you didn’t find out what happened to all those people. One good thing that happened is that while you boys were in the maze a local chop shop called and they‘re will to buy all these vehicles for $500.00 a piece. I guess I don‘t care if the owners are missing. I’ll do o.k.”

“I guess we’d better get going,” I said. Then, just as Gerrard and I turned around to leave, the ugly old witch was coming up behind us. Gerrard and I looked around for a place to run. “That’s the old witch!” I yelled. I looked up at the farmer and said, “That’s the one I was telling you about.”
“Why that’s not an old witch,” he said angrily, “That’s my wife!

I spent the next day nursing my black eye with a piece of steak over it. My swollen lower lip was not quite as big as it was the night before. My ribs were soar but I didn’t believe any of them were broken. What kind of makes me mad is that my friend Gerrard just stood there laughing his head off along with farmer Van Wooten as Mrs. Van Wooten beat the heck out of me with her baseball bat. Now I know how those pumpkins must of felt and why they wanted revenge so badly.  Gerrard proved to be a very bad friend because he did not help me out when I was taking a beating.  I think I might get revenge tomorrow by adding some special little rat raisin sprinkles to Gerrards doughnut.