You ever been scared stiff?
I know I have.
I was a kid, maybe 3rd grade.
And after a Halloween night of trick-or-treating in Saudi Arabia, I went to take a shower.
About eye level was a window in the shower, and I opened it to get some fresh air.
Shortly after I opened it, my dad jumped up on the other side of the screen and yelled Boo! – about 12 inches from my face.
I died.
In no sense did I slightly startle. I just. Nearly. Died.
Some part of me might still be in that shower somewhere.
My dad felt awful about scaring me that bad.
At least he hadn’t been plotting it for 45 minutes.
“Mamaw had a much bigger bark than bite, at least with me. She once ordered me to watch a TV show with her on a Friday night, a creepy murder mystery, the type of show Mamaw loved to watch. At the climax of the show, during a moment designed to make the viewer jump, Mamaw flipped off the lights and screamed in my ear. She’d seen the episode before and knew what was coming. She made me sit there for forty-five minutes just so she could scare me at the appointed time.”
