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Asa Don Brown

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“The Bad Halloween: A Crazies Night Chronicle by Stewart Stafford I'm Rich—ambulance medic on Crazies Night, Demented chariot driver in the mediverse, Skeleton crew for swarms of ailing impostors, Our dashboard crucifix, buffeting every curse. Jittery, side-burned Jeff riding shotgun, I tease his grumbling about missing fun: "A toast with your Pumpkin Spice Latte! Breakfast on me when our shift is done." Behind us, a female living portrait groaned— Drunk or high, headfirst, she kissed the road. Mona Lisa frame unmounted for treatment, delirious spoilers dropped for The Da Vinci Code! Death's Reaper stood daring us in our path; graveyard shift, centre line, gleaming scythe. Brakes jammed, sirens blared, the prank waned— This gothic vigilante traffic cop waved us by! We dropped Patient Moaner at the hospital, Jeff smoked, and I ate canteen Colcannon, Our "bat signal" crackled, flashed in the cab: "Cosplay brawl at the Hotel Shannon." We drove off for more Boo-Boo Bus Bedlam to hit our Gotham's streets and tend the injured. Catherine wheel jack-o-lantern through windscreen; The Pumpkin Bomber’s cackle went unheard. Ears temporarily-deafened, thumbs up given; Faces, hands, arms burned—scarred medics. Flying glass cuts on our cheeks and necks: Carers now mummified patients: sideline critics. The first cracks of dawn chase shadows away; A Grand Grimoire yielding to Grey's Anatomy, Our carriage—the repair yard's hollow gourd, All-Saints sunrise feast to shed All Hallows' agony. On the Lord of Death's night, we didn't die: Weary defiance met coffee and pumpkin pie. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

HorrorHalloweenSurrealPop CultureDark HumorAmbulanceSamhainParamedicsFirst RespondersEmts
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Hallo, my fine fellow!” “Hallo!” returned the boy. “Do you know the Poulterer’s, in the next street but one, at the corner?” Scrooge inquired. “I should hope I did,” replied the lad. “An intelligent boy!” said Scrooge. “A remarkable boy! Do you know whether they’ve sold the prize Turkey that was hanging up there?—Not the little prize Turkey: the big one?” “What, the one as big as me?” returned the boy. “What a delightful boy!” said Scrooge. “It’s a pleasure to talk to him. Yes, my buck!” “It’s hanging there now,” replied the boy. “Is it?” said Scrooge. “Go and buy it.” “Walk-er!” exclaimed the boy. “No, no,” said Scrooge, “I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and tell ’em to bring it here, that I may give them the direction where to take it. Come back with the man, and I’ll give you a shilling. Come back with him in less than five minutes and I’ll give you half-a-crown!”

Christmas QuotesCharles DickensA Christmas Carol
Book:A Christmas Carol
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