Halloween Board Meeting

Here it was a month before Halloween and all hell was about to break loose.
Not that a little hell was unexpected in the realm of the impish ghouls who relished ruling the last night of October. In the last hundred years or so they discovered eating candy stolen from the little humans was much more delightful than eating the little buggers themselves who nowadays tended to be a bit on the spoiled rotten side. No, it was much uglier than that. It was a pure grab for power. The leader of the wolf pack challenged the royalty of darkness for the chair at the head of the table.
“You all know it ain’t fittin’ for nobody but a descendant of Dracula himself to rule the roost on Halloween night.”
The latest top vampire was from southern Transylvania which many gossipy gargoyles attributed as cause of the latest political shenanigans. Werewolves, contrary to popular belief, are fussy about diction, which begged the issue of how can one mispronounce a midnight howl at the moon?
The top Halloween honcho decided to call the meeting at everyone’s favorite restaurant Frankenstein’s Beanery. The wait staff, who were stitched together at the last minute to ensure proper service, had not quite perfected the art of placing bowls of hot bean soup on the table, so the meal ended in the laps of the wolves which made them even more crotchety.
Also, Dracula’s darling put zombies in charge of the registration table. How can anyone be expected to fill out a ballot properly after the zombies have drooled on it? Third Dracula looked like Top Dog. The sexy hexy crowd blew on the smoldering cauldron which held the Frankenstein bean soup and cried fowl.
“It’s not my fault they didn’t have chicken noodle on the menu tonight!” Dracula’s kin hissed.
“And it didn’t have enough bay leaves in it!” Wolfie snarled.
“We’re not talking about the damn soup,” the sexy hexy crowd cackled. “It’s time to look for an alternative Halloween head leader. Someone compassionate and soothing. We want our Mummy!”
The vampire waved aside their protests. “The mail monster delivered a letter this afternoon from Cairo. The Mummy is all wrapped up in other problems and won’t be here for Halloween.”
“Not so fast, fang face!”
Every goblin in the room turned to look at the door, where stood, dripping in sands from the Sahara, the Mummy. The buzzards buzzed. The crows cawed. The black cats hissed.
“All my babies are upset!” the Egyptian cried out. “It’s time for good old-fashioned Addams family values! That’s why Mummy’s back in town!”

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