I don’t have many jokes or scary stories, but the few I have, and rarely tell, are good ones.
I’ve got a good one for you.
THE DRIP, DRIP, DRIPPING
There once was an old woman who lived alone with her little dog. At night in her bed, she would put her hand down and the little dog would lick her hand, and so she knew everything was all right. The same went for this night. She put her hand down over the bed and the little dog licked her hand, and she knew all was well. So she went to sleep.
Sometime during the night, the old woman was awakened by a sound. It was like the drip, drip, dripping of water. She tried to go back to sleep, but she found that she couldn’t, and the drip, drip, dripping continued.
She got out of bed and went to the bathroom, assuming the faucet had come loose. She tightened the faucet handles and went back to bed. She put her hand down and the little dog licked her hand, and so she went to sleep. But she couldn’t sleep just yet. The sound of the drip, drip, dripping continued.
“It could be the shower,” she thought to herself, and got out of bed again. She went to the bathroom, testing the faucet levers once more, before pulling back the curtain of the shower. There hanging from the shower head with blood drip, drip, dripping down its nose, was the little dog.
A shudder went through her when she realized something else had licked her hand that night… Some thing under the bed…
Frightfully yours,
Fanny T. Crispin
Written Things 