And so, yes, I found myself in the van, riding toward the Taywood house, wondering how I ended up in these situations. Well, half the time it was entirely my idea, but I wondered how I ended up in these situations when Roger was the instigator.

It took about thirty minutes to get there, during which Becky told her mother the Taywood story eight different times, each less accurate than the last, until finally it involved aliens, Frankenstein's monster, and Darth Vader. Though I have to admit the part with Darth Vader was pretty cool.

From the outside, it appeared to be a perfectly normal abandoned house. The homes on each side were also for sale, and had been for quite some time from the looks of the lawns. The Taywood place was a green, two-story wooden house with a large front porch and single-car garage.

"This is really dumb," I said as Becky's mother pulled the van into the driveway. "It's also trespa.s.sing. We shouldn't be teaching our children to trespa.s.s. Kyle, I never want to see you trespa.s.s, okay?"

"Okay."

"It's not trespa.s.sing," said Becky's mom. "n.o.body owns it anymore. And you're both adults. And it's Halloween."

I'm pretty sure that none of those excuses would have carried any weight with my wife (and I didn't think any of them were true except it being Halloween). But, despite my parental advice, I've always really sucked at resisting peer pressure, from tugging on the Rottweiler's tail at age four to eating the Mystery Solid last month.

"Can I come?" asked Theresa.

"No," I said.

"Can I come?" asked Becky.

"No," her mother said.

"Can I come?" asked Kyle.

"No," I said.

"Why?" asked Kyle.

"Because," I said.

"Don't worry about us," said Becky's mom (I really should have known her real name, but I wasn't about to admit my ignorance). "We'll just play some games and have fun. Tell the ghost I said hi!"

Roger and I got out of the van with our flashlights and walked toward the house. "You're a jerk," I informed him.

"Oh, now, you're just jealous because I came up with the idea first. Remember in high school when we went looking for Bigfoot? That was fun, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't Bigfoot; it was the Loch Ness Monster. And you thought it was swimming around in the sewers, so no, I don't recall it being all that much fun. You certainly were dumb as a kid, weren't you?"

"Okay, well, I have an important question."

"What?"

"Where exactly would you wear the gummi worms? I mean, if you were running around City Hall naked you'd be way too nervous to maintain an-"

"Shut up, Roger."

We stepped up onto the front porch. I knocked on the door.

"You think the ghost is going to answer?" Roger asked.

"We don't know that n.o.body lives here. There could be drug dealers inside. Do you really want to walk in on some drug dealers? Drug dealers have guns, you know."

"You're right," said Roger. "Good thinking on the drug dealer situation."

No drug dealers or ghosts answered, so I tested the doork.n.o.b. Unlocked. That wasn't particularly surprising...we certainly weren't the first people to think of exploring the Taywood house, though we were probably the only ones who'd fully completed p.u.b.erty.

I pushed the door open, and it let out the traditional horror movie creak. I flipped the light switch by the doorway, just in case the electric company continued to supply power out of a sense of generosity, but nothing happened. Roger and I turned on our flashlights and stepped inside.

The house was mostly barren, save for one torn couch and about eighty pounds of dust in the living room alone. The walls were also covered with graffiti that was remarkably clever despite artistic and grammar limitations.

I have to admit, though, something about the house didn't feel right. It didn't feel abandoned. I didn't believe in ghosts, but I definitely got the sense that there was some kind of presence in the house. Of course, it was probably the presence of rats.

"Well, I've explored about all I can handle for one evening," I said. "How about we head back to the van?"

Roger grinned. "Are you scared?"

"I'm scared of what Helen's gonna do to me when she finds out I dragged the kids out here, yeah!"

"The kids are safe in the van with Mrs. Glencrest. You're being a perfectly responsible, mature parent. Don't worry about it."

I almost asked how he remembered her name, but I was pretty sure the answer would only reveal my inadequate social skills. I shined my flashlight around the room. "Well, Rog, I'm seeing a lot of dust and not much else. How much more exploring do you want to do?"

"We've at least got to go upstairs. That's where the ghost of Jarvis was sighted."

"There is no ghost. And it's Jervis."

"No, it's not. Jarvis Taywood."

"No, sorry, but I'm afraid it's...oh, no, wait, you're right. My bad."

"C'mon, Andrew, you've got to admit you're having fun. We don't get out like this very often anymore. You don't want your children to think their father is a total wuss, do you?"

"Oh no, I'd much rather have them think their father is a total idiot."

We wandered into the kitchen, which still had a refrigerator and oven but no other furnishings. Roger opened the pantry door, revealing lots more dust, some cobwebs, and a few cans of various fruits and vegetables resting on the shelves.

"Canned goods from beyond the grave," Roger pointed out.

"Spooky. Let's go upstairs and get this over with."

As we walked upstairs, I had to admit to myself that exploring a dark, reportedly haunted house really was kind of fun...not that I was going to admit it to anybody else. The stairs didn't creak as we walked up them, which kind of hampered the mood, but the upstairs was plenty dust-covered and eerie.

We walked into the master bedroom, which had a bed frame but no mattress. "This is where they saw him," Roger said. "Do you feel anything...watching you?"

I shook my head. "But I feel cold...oh, so cold...ever so cold...hold me, Roger...share your manly warmth..."

"Ha ha," said Roger. Then he raised his voice. "Jarvis Taywood, if you're here, show yourself! Reveal your spectral presence to us mere mortals! Let us gaze upon your ectoplasm from the other side!"

Nothing happened.

Roger frowned. "Well, he's just being a snot."

"Maybe you weren't loud enough."

"Yo, Jarvis Taywood!" Roger shouted. "Come on out! Here, ghostie, ghostie, ghostie! Here ghost, c'mon boy!" He let out a dog-calling whistle.

"You know, if his ghost really did haunt this place, you're screwed in the afterlife."

Suddenly Roger turned toward the doorway. "Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"Shhh!"

"Sorry."

"Shhh!"

We were both silent for a long moment. "I heard something downstairs," Roger said.

"Probably just something trying to force its way into our plane of existence. Don't worry about it."

"I don't know what it was. I'm gonna go check it out."

"All right, you go downstairs and get killed, I'll investigate up here some more. Meet you in purgatory."

"Sounds good," said Roger, leaving the bedroom and heading downstairs. I wandered around the room some more, not quite sure what I thought I was looking for, considering that we were just here on a lark. A stupid lark, at that.

I walked out of the bedroom and investigated the bathroom, which was a hotbed of non-existent paranormal activity. The other bedrooms were just as empty. Still, I couldn't deny that there was something decidedly eerie about this place. I half-expected to see the words "LEAVE OR DIE!!!" appear in blood on the wall at any moment.

I nervously turned around and glanced at the wall behind me. There were no words in blood, not even an ad.

Why was I so creeped out all of a sudden? And why wasn't I more ashamed of myself for getting creeped out?

"Hey, Roger!" I called out. "What'd you find?"

No response.

"Here, Roger, Roger, Roger! C'mere, boy!" I said, letting out a dog-whistle.

Still nothing.

Great. As if he hadn't regressed enough by dragging me out here in the first place, now he was playing obnoxious teenager pranks. If I walked downstairs looking for him, he'd probably leap out at me from behind that ugly couch. What a dork.

I briefly considered turning the tables on him, letting out a scream of terror and faking my own death (or something comparable). But then I figured that if he actually had heard a noise, it might have been Mrs. Whatever and the kids. Most likely, they were all plotting against me right now, but I didn't want to scare the kids, at least not in a fake-my-own-death kind of way.

In a moment of maturity I decided to just walk downstairs and let them jump out. No sense letting things get out of hand. I'd already put myself at more than enough risk of getting in trouble tonight.

I casually walked down the stairs, which did creak this time. "Okay, Roger, no more free Froot Loops at my place if you don't come out right now."

He didn't answer. I headed toward the sofa, keeping close to the wall so that hopefully I could see behind it before he decided to jump out at me. But he wasn't there.

I checked the dining room and kitchen, including the pantry. No sign of him.

I quickly checked the rest of the downstairs area.

Nothing.

Fine. So he left me. I opened the front door, which let out such a loud creak that I wondered if he really could have gotten out without my hearing it.

I walked outside, shutting the door behind me, and went over to the van, which I was almost surprised to find was still there. Becky's mom rolled down her window. "Have fun?"

"Oh, gobs. Did Roger come out here?"

She shook her head. "Not that I saw."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." She certainly looked believable enough, but I wasn't about to discount anyone from Roger's sinister plan.

"Well, then, he's just being a doofus," I said, walking around and getting in the van. "What about you guys?" I asked, looking back at Theresa, Kyle, and Becky. "Have you seen Uncle Roger?"

"Not me!" said Becky.

"Not me either!" said Theresa.

"I haven't! I haven't!" Kyle pitched in.

"He's not hiding in the van?" I asked them. "Maybe under your feet?"

"No way!" said Becky.

"Are you suuuuuuuuuure?"

"Yes way!"

"Seriously, Andrew," said Becky's mom, "we didn't see him come out of the house. Do you think he's okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine," I muttered. "We should just leave him here."

"Yeah, leave him! Leave him!" proclaimed Becky, while my own children giggled.

"No, no, we're not going to leave him," I said. "We'll just wait for him to come out by himself. Boy, will he feel dumb."

"Is everyone up for another game?" asked Becky's mom. At the children's vigorous a.s.sent, she began. "I spy, with my little eye..."

Ten minutes later, Roger still hadn't come out of the Taywood house, and I was concerned. Yeah, he was sometimes obnoxious, and immature, and had an almost religious dedication to being a smart-a.s.s, but he really wasn't p.r.o.ne to these kinds of pranks. Even if it had only been the two of us, it would have been out of character to drag it out this long, but with the children present it was just plain mean-spirited. Sure, I was talking it up like it was a big game, but if I hadn't been doing so Theresa and Kyle would've been worried sick.

"It's Kyle's b.u.t.t!" said Becky.