Spring 2006 Sisyphus - St. Louis University High School

40
thought to myself, but remind me of it in times
when I think you’ve forsaken me.
The music for the play began, warning everyone
to “gather ’round for the scary story!” I
recognized Rose’s ten-year-old cousin Rachel
acting as the announcer.
In the show, “The Legend of Pumpkin
Holler,” Rose played Katrina, the daughter of
a rich family; one of the guys, Ryan, played
her boyfriend Mike; and an older man, Wayne,
played a schoolteacher, “Itchy Bob” Crane, who
planned on marrying Katrina to get all the famous
succotash that her mother made. Rose put on her
strongest southern accent to invite both guys to a
ghost-story-telling contest at her house. She told
a story about
ghosts eating
a weary traveler,
Itchy Bob
told the story
of the goblins
that threw corn
at the farmers
on nights with
full moons,
and Mike told
the story of
the Headless
H o r s e m a n ,
who searched
every night for
the head he lost to a cannonball in the Civil War.
The play ended with Itchy Bob getting chased
out of town by the infamous Headless Horseman
(who would have been scarier if I hadn’t seen
through the gauze that covered his face that it
was Ryan).
After the play, Rose and the other two stuck
around to talk to the kids who had watched
the show. The two boys seemed particularly
enthralled by Rose. I smiled when I recognized
their infatuated looks. Eventually, their mother
ushered them on to go see the next set of pig
races. Rose went backstage to change out of her
costume, and I went to wait by the bonfire.
When she returned, we went with her mother
and Rachel on a haunted hayride with most of
the people who were still there (with a half hour
until closing time, there couldn’t have been more
than thirty people left). Rose sat on my right,
and on my left was a likable elderly man whose
jokes often caused the entire wagon to laugh.
We faced the inside of the wagon, which meant
that any number of people could surprise us from
behind.
Nothing on the ride was scary—there were
a few crucified figures that I didn’t approve
of—but other than that it was rather funny. Her
mother spent much of the time talking with the
old man and Wayne, and laughing into her hand
Tim Se lt z e r
at the things the
old man said.
The little boys
acted scared
by everything
and dove back
and forth trying
to hide (I
think they were
showing off for
Rose. One especially
kept
looking at her
to see if she
noticed), but
even funnier
was Rose instinctively diving into the center
of the wagon in fear of the chainsaw-wielding,
Freddie-esque figure that ran up from behind
the wagon. She was laughing, embarrassed, as
I helped her back into her seat.
The hayride had to end, unfortunately. We
finally came back around to the loading dock,
and everyone started toward the stairs. As I
stood and offered my hand to Rose, though,
her mom stopped me. “Nuh-uh, stay there. I
need pictures of you two,” she said, pushing
me back down into the seat. I grinned, knowing
that Rose would share the pictures with me next
time we saw each other. After the flashes (and