It was a fun and mischevious night...

This is a story I like to tell at this time of year, when the days be short and the wind are becoming cold, bitter, and severe. The trees be a-turning, from green to red to bare, and the animals of the woodlands are busy scurrying and burying food for the months ahead.

For it is the time when the folks of the quiet little village get together to gather firewood and bake a turkey or two, with camaraderie and cheeriness, the cider is past 'round. It was 'bout this time of year when way back in '62, there was strange happenings seen by the folks of the village. Strange happenings that haven't been seen a'fore or since that fateful year...

It began one quiet moonless night in '61, the corn harvesting time was just over and the pumpkins were ripening in the patches, the leaves fallin' gently over 'em, they was, when a strange character entered the village a'ridin' an old swaybacked horseshoe crab. Now, bare in mind the the villagers be hospitable folks and not one of them would think twice about an oddity or eccentricity, least not back then anyhowsy. So when the stranger dismounted his unlikely mount, swung his overcoat back into place and entered the village pub, only the regulars observed him up close like and took little notice. After a few huddled words with the pub keeper, the stranger moved up the stairs and after a few muffled bumps, was seen or heard no more that night...

The next day dawned bright and glorious, the countryside was awash in the vivid colors of fall, on the banks of a pond on a farm near the village center, the ducks were quacking, overhead the geese were honking as they passed by, and the leaves continued a'fallin' from the trees. It was on this wondrous morn the stranger was seen riding through the meadows on his ever faithful steed, hailing all he came to with a big hallo and a howdy-do too. And soon the word got out, he had come to the village to woo the lovely Miss Stephanie O'Gullsy.

The stranger took up a job at the local burger place, feeding the toaster the sesame seed buns, and promptly got down to the task at hand. Now, the stranger, as you might of guessed, was the Old Gull, and his steed, well history will tell that story better that I... The courtship went off like a charm. That spring giggles were heard in the hills and by the stream picnics were had, the summer fairly flew by, the two were inseparable, and words of a wedding started to buzzing on the sly...

Now all was not as it seemed, for deep in the doo, in a stable nearby, was a local chap who went by the name of Allus A. Raven, who before the stranger's arrival, had intended to be Miss Steph's intended (sorry..) He decided to take matters in hand a'fore it was too late, so he started to plan... The season's march had brought the land full cycle, and once again pumpkins dotted the countryside and the leaves were a'fallin' yet again, the local folks gathered to celebrate the harvest, least that was the stated excuse that they had in hand. So up from the valley came the fiddler crab and his band of merry conch horns, the barn doors was a'flung open and the village people came a'trottin' from yon and hither. Some brung pies, other dunking apples and carmel, some brung cider and others turkeys and gravy. Now the stranger, he brung Miss Steph, and Mr. Raven, he done brung his plan. It was soon the party was a'stomping, and the cider passed 'round...

The night ran on, the dances grew swifter, the cider a'goin' downed, when the storytellers gathered in a corner and a contest was a'held, why of course, the scariest should win! Whilst the band was treated to a much needed drink, the folks gathered in and the story telling begun. The first one told was a proper fright, the second was worse, the stories grew in the telling, they did.

The Old Gull grew pleasantly scared, but when Mr. Raven told the gory story of a shark that wouldn't die the Old Gull jumped up with a start and left with a rush, onto his horseshoe crab he leapt, and home he headed, all a shakin', posthaste and in a hurry too... The night was dark, the wind was a'swirlin' and yes, the leaves were a'fallin' yet again. Mr Raven, whose plan this a'frightenin' was, was a laffin', thinkin' soon the Old Gull be gone, and Miss Steph would a'soon be lookin' his way...

It was in the dark woods when the much a'feared bird heard the baying of a rabid canine chasin' him and when he turned for a look see, and he saw two glowing eyes watchin' back, for in pursuit was a gleaming black dog, and on top of him was a demonic creature, twisted fingers, bloody fangs an' all...

Now I am sure you have heard the tale of the rider of the headless doberman, with whom the Old Gull and his faithful stead ran a'foul that night, deep in the dark woods, high in the hills near the quiet village, back in '62, so I'll leave this story where it is with a word or two and a note to boot. Firstly, Mr. Raven, well, he still shovels doo in the stable nearby, and Miss Steph, well, she moved on, and the rider of the headless doberman is but a legend now... The Old Gull was never again seen, 'cept perhaps for a feather or two...