The Ghastly Tale of the Ghostly Grumpy Gus

This weekend I was dog-sitting for a couple from church.  They have two of the cutest Cocker Spaniels and live in a house very appropriately named Cocker Hill.  The name isn't appropriate just because of the darling puppies, but because the house is on a really big hill.  This weekend there just so happened to be a strong wind advisory, and found out strong winds are a lot different on a hill than in my house in the flat lands.  

As I sat in the living room with the dogs at my feet, trying to enjoy a relaxing Friday evening, I heard a heard a loud thump.  I got up to investigate, thinking perhaps one of the dogs had knocked something over.  Yes, they were sitting at me feet, but the thump scared me!  While I was looking around the house for the source of the noise, I heard an even louder howling noise.  The howling was followed by a terrifying Psycho-murder-in-the-shower shrieking.   Logically, I knew that the wind was probably responsible for the noises, but a nagging little voice in the back of my head kept reminding me that the first person to die in a horror movie is the one to try to explain away the signs of trouble.  By cinematic standards, I was a goner.

Since I am alive to write this, you've probably figured out that I lived through the night.  It seems there was no psycho killer out to get me.  But I still have a hard time believing that a bit of wind could cause such a ruckus.  So, I humbly submit for your approval an alternate explanation:

Once upon a time, there lived a man named Gus.  He was short of stature and dour of disposition.  In fact, he was such a total bummer to be around that people would run and hide when they saw him coming.  They'd whisper to each other, "Take cover!  Grumpy Gus is coming!  If he finds you, he'll tell you all about his inner ear problem and political instability in the Middle East!"

Grumpy Gus became even grumpier without anyone to talk to.  He devised a devious plan to lure potential victims into his gloomy clutches:  He pushed over large objects so that someone would run out to find out what happened.  Once someone stepped out, he pounced on him or her to describe his vertigo and all of the ways the world was going to heck in a hand basket.  Eventually, everyone caught on to his Gus's tricks and remained in their hiding places no matter what object fell.  Gus started howling so that the townspeople would rush out to defend their homes against an apparent wolf attack.  This worked for a little while, but the townspeople soon learned this trick as well.  Poor Grumpy Gus kept making up ever-more-disturbing sounds and wandered the streets in search of someone to depress.  

Gus continued to wander making horrible shrieks and moans until he actually wandered off of a cliff.  The townspeople, being so used to Gus's screaming, ignored his pleas for help thinking it was yet another trick.  Gus died at the bottom of cliff, but still wanders the streets howling and shrieking, looking for someone to talk to.

So there you have it--I was being haunted by Grumpy Gus!  I didn't talk to him, though.  He really is a downer.