Oops, sorry. That's a different diary. I'll try to remember to erase that before I post this.
We are exactly 2 years and 355 days apart, with Allison being the first-born. When I was born she promptly bit me in the arm, thus setting the stage for years of physical abuse that I suffered at her hands. You see, when we were kids, we didn't really get along. I don't mean we argued on occasion. I mean we had knock-down-drag-out-head-slammed-in-doors-limbs-flailing-eye-gouging fights.
Then one day I was taller than she was.
You know how things go from there. All of the sudden it wasn't fun to tease me anymore, because when I punched back it hurt.
The degree of trickery I would stoop to in order to mess with her was mind-boggling; staggering even. I was fortunate to have a cousin who was my age, and more importantly, also a guy. This meant that she was outnumbered if he was around. Thankfully the 1960's were really good to my aunt (wink-wink) so Mike was around a whole lot.
Allison had a talking Mrs. Beasley doll, quite a valuable item since it was in good condition. I was 9 at the time, and was fascinated by how you got the thing to talk. On the back of the hard plastic body was a sort of button, a round section of plastic that you pushed to activate the little voice box inside. I discovered that you could remove the button, which revealed that the whole thing was not really a button, but an air baffle. Pushing on the button merely increased the air pressure against the voice box, switching it on.
Down in our basement, the previous tenants left behind a spool of medical air tubing, presumably from an oxygen tank. A plan hatched in my brain. The tubing fit into the hole in the doll's back. I blew on the other end of the hose experimentally.
"Would you like to try on my glasses? You may if you like!" Mrs. Beasley happily replied.
Excellent.
When Mike was over that weekend, we strung the tubing from my closet, out the window, across the house, into my sister’s window, along the floor and up the back of the dresser where Mrs. Beasley sat, forever looking over Allison's bed.
Then we waited for bedtime.
At 8:30 we were herded into my room by Mom and Dad. Mike and I sat in the darkness, waiting and waiting. At 9 PM we heard the telltale signs of Allison getting ready for bed. Her door closed, then silence fell across the house as Mom and Dad sat in the living room, recuperating from the long day.
At 9:30 my accomplice and I snuck out of our beds and into the closet, where I found the end of air tubing. I smiled to myself, then blew into the hose.
"Long ago I was a little girl just like you!", we heard Mrs. Beasley croak through the silence of Allison's room.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Allison's scream brought Mike and I to tears of laughter. We covered our faces to muffle the giggles as Mom and Dad ran to my sister's room.
"MY ROOM IS HAUNTED!!!! OMYGOD, MY ROOM IS HAUNTED!!! SOMEBODY WAS TALKING IN HERE!!!!"
"Allison, go to sleep. You probably just had a bad dream."
"But....but..."
"No, it's past your bedtime."
Again silence filled the house as our parents retreated back to the living room.
Now it was Mike's turn. After my sister's terrified whimpers quieted down, he blew into the hose.
Mrs. Beasley raspy voice responded. "Let's play a game!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! THERE'S A GHOST IN HERE!!!!!!!"
The sounds of Mom and Dad stomping up to her room was unmistakable. Again she implored them to call a Jesuit priest and cast the ghost out of the room, again Mom and Dad told her to go to bed.
OK, the third time was probably pushing our luck. After the tears of laughter cleared, I blew into the hose and Mrs. Beasley opined "Milk and cookies are great!" Unfortunately this time I felt a tugging on the hose from Mrs. Beasley's end. Before we could move the closet door was torn open and Allison was kicking and scratching at us as we lay helplessly in the closet, laughing hysterically.
Then Dad came into the room. It didn't take too long for him to spot the tubing running out of the closet, up the wall and out the window. He went over to Allison's room and saw Mrs. Beasley on the floor, still attached to the air tube. He came back, sent my sister to bed, and spanked the living daylights out of my cousin and I, as we so richly deserved.
The next day Mrs. Beasley was removed from the house. Allison and Mom went shopping, while Mike and Dad and I stayed home. After they left, Dad told my cousin and I to sit down with him for a little talk. After telling us that we shouldn't have done that, he started laughing.
"That was pretty funny. Very clever." Then he cleared his throat, gave us a stern look and told us never to do that again.
Parents can be very confusing sometimes.
Happy 1,000th post!