I was born. I suffered.
I suffered some more, and hopefully,
I won't die a painful death.
This is my life.

FOR SALE: Quaint country farm house/portal to Hell.



This is the first in my three part series outlining the luxury rental properties of The Old Man. Like an in-ground pool, having rental properties in the old hometown is also a sign of "making it." The best known and all around coolest was affectionately known as the Funhouse, or The Ponderosa. It was a great white farmhouse way out in the country. Its sprawling grounds and gorgeous Georgian architecture were beloved by the locals. Well, this is what The Old Man thought when first laying his eyes on the property. The Old Man and his son, let's call him Al Jr. purchased the white beauty in hopes of cashing in on the rent the multi-room building would bring. Plus, it was in the perfect location. About two miles away was one of the areas nuclear power plants. Surely, contract workers from other parts of the country would love to live that close to their work.
Soon, The Old Man's work force (i.e., his kids), were indentured into getting the Funhouse ready for tenants. Upon entering the dwelling, an overwhelming sense of fear and dread smothered you. Maybe it was just that I was young, but I don't think so. One time, I happened to be in the dinning room alone with my sister, let's call her Jennifer, suddenly I heard: "Hello Eric", emanating from all around. Jennifer also heard something say: “Hello, Jennifer" to her. We both high-tailed it out of the house screaming.

Not long after that, we found out that the previous owner had died outside in the front driveway. Apparently, the dead owner, seemingly pleasant by saying hi to us, still felt the need to smother us with his ectoplasm. I never could walk through that place without feeling scared beyond all reason.
Well, remember I told you about how prospective tenants would love the place? They did. In particular, Tennessee hillbillies. They all flocked to the Funhouse. Something about flake-board covered walls just attracts hicks like a moth to the flame. With that, the house filled to the brim with hillbillies.

Unfortunately, for The Old Man, and his sons, hillbillies are a dirty lot. Soon the Funhouse required some cleaning and maintenance. The best crew The Old Man had was then dispatched. To protect the innocent, I will call them, Robert, Chris, and Craig. Now I do not have first-hand knowledge of the following, but it comes from a trustworthy source. In the movie Salem's Lot, the Marsten House was the set piece for most of the action. Its' walls and floors were covered with an evil black chalky-like substance. This too is how the inside of the Funhouse looked-covered in black filth. You know, those hillbillies can really drink too. I'm not talking about bottled water. And, what is every rebel's drink of choice? That is right! Jack Daniel's Tennessee Whiskey. There were two five-foot high cardboard boxes overflowing with empty Jack Daniel's bottles. It was truly an awesome site. Praise the Lord. With little bitching, the fantastic crew made quick work of the cleanup.

But all was not right with the The Old Man’s rental property. In fact, the Funhouse was a big steaming pile of shit. Also, something sinister seamed to be going on. As you can imagine, the Yankee ghost didn't like having all of these southern gentlemen around and he wanted them gone. The Old Man was constantly at the Funhouse fixing things that mysteriously would break. What could be wrong with this place? thought The Old Man. Then the Funhouse was struck by lightning, not once, but twice. It was time to unload the satanic country estate. Finally, after an excruciating amount of time The Old Man and Al Jr. were able to sell money pit. Interestingly enough, the man who purchased the Funhouse, struck oil out in the back shed and is now a billionaire.

Next time friends, a building near and dear to all of our hearts: The Tanning/Hair Salon/ and possible brothel.