Oh my friends – welcome to my Bacon’s Tales of Terror. With mom/dad being sick last month in February, I didn’t get a chance to post my Bacon’s Tales of Terror on the 13th. Someone had to take care of the humans. Knowing that, this month I have a great tale for you. Something that will make you think twice… make you listen to every bump in the night… something that might make you want to hold my hoof. If you do, I’m here for you.
This month, I’m sharing a dream that my mommy had one night. Did you know that a lot of writers get their stories from their dreams. For instance, Stephen King gets a lot of his tales this way. Did you know that? Well, let’s see what you think about mom’s dream. Best wishes my friends.
This night was like many nights before of going out to dinner. It all started with the normal, “I don’t care wherever you want to go” ordeal. Rolls eyes – you know the constant battle back and forth before finally picking a place to eat. We picked our local Chick-Fil-A and got a nice secluded table off to the side so we could talk about our days. Mine about work and Jim about his day at the Hotel Thompson. Hey, sometimes working at the Hotel Thompson is worse than any job you could pick with the four animals running around playing. We talked for what seemed like a long time, laughing and holding hands. I remember that so clearly and it brings a smile to my face. Things got a little fuzzy after that and I remember going up front to pay our bill.
I kept standing at the counter to pay and the cashier kept taking everyone else’s checks cashing them out except me. I remember getting a little ticked tapping my toes waiting and waiting. Finally disgusted with the treatment I was getting, I decided to sit at a booth across from the cash register for the line to go down. I sat and just people watched. It’s a great past time of mine but this day was a little different. People were coming by and shaking their heads and whispering. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but apparently a lot of people weren’t happy. Maybe they got the same treatment as I was getting trying to pay my bill?
The line was shorter at the cashier so I once again got back in line to pay our bill. And once again, the cashier ignored me. What was up with this chick? I finally had enough. I put the bill on the counter with some money and turned to get Jim to leave. But Jim was gone. Where did he get to all of a sudden? Maybe he found himself out the front door so that was the way I went. Odd but then again he was still trying to be independent.
I went out the front door and there was an ambulance in the parking lot. Maybe that accounted for why people were upset inside of the restaurant, whispering and shaking their heads. That’s when I noticed Jim near the ambulance looking inside of it. Oh no. It must have been someone we knew. I could tell that Jim was crying so I quickly rushed over to find out who it was. I took his hand into mine and he shivered stepping backwards. My poor husband. This had to be someone close to us.
I looked inside of the ambulance just in time to hear the paramedics calling it and that they didn’t make it. Oh no. This can’t be good. I moved over a few inches to look at who it was before they pulled the sheet over their head. That was the last that I remember. It was me!
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We read your weekly Dear Bacon issue every Tuesday at Old McDonald’s Farm. There has been a lot of questions about one being able to touch their nose with their tongue. I don’t get the fascination with this. All of us cows can do it. I had Myrtle take my picture of me doing just for the proof. What do you think little pig? Signed Bertha P.S. Old McDonald said you are welcomed anytime here at the farm. It would be a hoot if you came for a visit!
Dear Bertha and friends at Old McDonald’s Farm,
Wow! The proof is in the picture. I too don’t know what the fascination is. I can touch my snout with my tongue. Thanks to all of your friends at the farm for the invite. Next time I’m that way, I’ll drop in for a visit. Maybe I’ll bring the rocks with me so they can have a field trip. It would be a blast my friends!
This is my scary look. We’ve all taken turns reading your 31 Days of Spook here in Kentucky at the stables. Pig – you are some scary wrapped with HORROR. Where have you been hearing all of these frightening tales? Have been talking to Stephen King himself? Signed Hoarse from Screaming
Dear Hoarse from Screaming,
Thank you very much my friend. I take that as the compliment it was intended. I watch a LOT of television and I read a LOT of scary books. And, it helps that mommy likes a little of the macabre as well. You just have to remember – ghosts are our friends. They just have a lot of unfinished business to say the least.
And yes. Stephen King is a big inspiration to this little oinker. You know they say he dreams about a lot of the work he creates. Can you imagine living in his home? WOW! Now that would be scary.
I am blaming this ALL on you. If you didn’t write about such scary horror postings, I wouldn’t have gotten scared and climbed into the pillow and then the pillow wouldn’t have gotten scared and threw up. It’s all your fault. Signed Shaking Pooch
Dear Shaking Pooch,
I see my friend. It’s all my fault. Shaking head sideways. I did everything. Uh huh. Blame it on the pig that can type. Snorts. But I do give you kudo’s for coming up with such an original story to get out of trouble my friend.
They see me rollin’ – they hatin’. What can I say? I like to make things happen like you. It beats running through the hood. I just jump my board and presto magic – I’m there with a little push from my human. Why don’t you try it? I think you would like it. It’s groovy. Signed Poochy Hawk
Dear Poochy Hawk,
I like it! Anything where I don’t have to lose a few pounds by exercising, I’m all for it my friend. I’m off now to talk to daddy about it. I pick daddy because I think *he* will go for it. Be safe and have fun. I’ll see you on the streets!
It only takes that one word to get us all to the attention we are here in this picture. Nope it’s not the Dear Bacon issue – sorry little man. Nope it’s not the cat doing a pole dance – sorry Mouse Girl. It’s that wonderful glorious four lettered word that *ALL* of us drop everything we are doing and run to the kitchen. FOOD. We can’t help ourselves. Tell me we are not the only ones. You do the same thing too, right? Signed Cinco Foodies
Dear Cinco Foodies,
Puts head down. You are not alone my friends. It happens to the best of us. I am guilty in the first degree as well. What can we say? Food delivers us from all evil happenings. While we are eating, we can’t be up to no good? Keep up the fine work my friends.
Remember anipals – if you have questions and pictures, continue to send them to me at Baconthompson@gmail.com Thanks and have a great one!
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