Ghosts Next Door

Ghosts Next Door
by Lopaka Kapanui

Sep 3, 2021

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2021 #58


The dogs shit on the carpet. Not the kind of shit where you can pick up with some toilet paper, but the half solid, half liquidy kind.

I used the dog's pooper scooper to get rid of it and spent fifteen minutes washing my hands with the mechanics' industry-grade LAVA soap. The confusing thing is that our dogs went to obedience school, where they learned the tricks and the dos and don'ts. They passed with flying colors and finished at the top of their class. Then, they began to shit and piss on the same spot on the carpet for some reason. Initially, we assumed it was the carpet that Larry, Moe, and Curly (our dogs) had a problem with, so we switched out the carpet for a new one. Same thing. We opted for a large throw rug, the same thing. We even put out a bamboo-styled rug, and that didn't work either. I hated disciplining the three of them because it gave me feelings of guilt long after, but we were at our wit's end. One night, I decided to hook my phone up to the charger and mount it on a shelf where I could record video of the entire living room where it would record until we woke up the next morning. 

When I got up and did my business, I went straight to the living room and retrieved my phone to look at the recording. Larry, Moe, and Curly slept in their cage overnight in our bedroom. I didn't. My screams were loud enough that my wife came rushing out of the room. "What's going?" she asked while looking just as traumatized as I was. I handed her the phone, so she could look at the recording herself. I didn't say a word. I saw her looking at the footage, and then I saw her eyes widen, and she screamed too. "What the fuck is that?" I didn't say a word; instead, I went into our room and let the dogs out of their cages. The three of them rushed out and went to that same spot on the carpet where they pissed, took a shit, and then went about their normal everyday dog business.

As a courtesy to anyone who would buy this house after we moved out, we had it blessed and cleansed, not really knowing if it would work. But in case anyone asked, later on, we could say that we did try to do something about it. The thought did cross my mind to just burn the house down and call it even, thus sparing anyone else the trauma they may encounter. However, I'm a big believer in what goes comes around, and I didn't need that kind of karma. So, I did this. Once the new owners moved in, I got to know them well enough to feel comfortable giving me their e-mail. That's when I sent them the video I recorded on my phone that one night. In it, you see the living room in its entirety. It's quiet for the most part except for the ambient sound of cars up and down the street now and again. Then when your mind is lulled into a false sense of security, a creature of the most horrible appearance snaps in. My estimation is that it's six-foot-two inches in height. Its head is the size of a watermelon. It's all teeth with no eyes and two holes for a nose. It's emaciated, but the skin over the protruding bones is like scaled armor on an armadillo. The hands and feet are huge, and the fingers and toes are long and spine-like. It suddenly hunches over, and its entire body shudders. That's when it takes a huge dump on the carpet and finishes everything off with jet-like squirts of urine. That's what this whole thing was about, a literal pissing contest. At that moment, I hesitated to hit the send button. Something told me that there was a possibility that sending the video might not have the desired results I'd hoped for. What if the new owners decide to sue me for not telling them anything about the house when we first met? Fucking decisions, decisions. My cell phone started ringing, and the number on it was from one of the new owners of our former house, the wife. "Your three dogs are here," her voice was manic, and I could hear her kids and her husband screaming in the background. "Please come right now!" I rushed to our bedroom, and certainly, the three cages were empty. I got to our old house as fast I could. When I rushed up the walkway, the husband was already waiting. He hurried me in, panting behind me. "This way, this way, hurry!" When I emerged into our old living room, I saw Larry, Moe, and Curly slowly inching toward something. Their low growls rumbled the wooden floors. As I walked further into the living room, I saw it. The thing on the video. My three Rhodesian ridgeback alphas had it dead to rights. Moe and Curly got as close to it as they could without engaging it, forced it out of its corner, and began circling to the left. That's when Larry jumped it from behind and clamped his jaws on the back of its neck. Moe and Curly pounced on it and knocked it to the carpet, where the three of them tore it to shreds. Nothing recognizable of what it used to be was left. 

How my dogs got out of their cages and made it back to our old home on their own is beyond me. But they were not about to lose a paranormal pissing contest to some creature and his ectoplasmic micturition. 

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