Hobie Cat
outback

August 8, 2017 - Ghost Host

Holy moly…

I know, it’s been, like, forever, dude.

Neglecting my blog wasn’t my intention, you see. I merely got caught up in the act of, well, living.

You know, paying the bills and stuff like that there.

After penning three novels plus Hip Harry and all those political posts, blogs, and smart-aleck memes, I opted for a change of pace and dipped my toe into the world of employment opportunities. I have a fairly short list of demands since, after all, I am easy to please with my first and foremost demand being… LOCAL.

I commuted aplenty when I lived in Southern California and my travel times ranged from 45 minutes all the way up to two hours each way door-to-door.

Sheesh.

Please, not again.

Plus, it would be nice to excavate my keystone in job satisfaction…
the CREATIVE.

I hit the job posts, programmed some search bots, and discovered some interesting creative prospects in Jacksonville, probably an hour commute, and even more in Orlando, a two hour commute.

My inclination was “Eww” and “Yikes”, respectively.

I’ll do it if I have to but first let’s take a look-see at our pleasant little haven here, Saint Augustine.

CGI, Computer animation jobs?
Naw.

Web design?
Not really.

How about Engineering or CAD?
Hmmm…

Wait a minute, what’s this?

Ghost Host?
What’s a Ghost Host?

I came across this opportunity on this particular job board because my neighbor is employed with this organization and she repeatedly comments that she enjoys the work so I uploaded my resume and flagged an interest in the position. Within a couple of days I received a phone call to line up an interview.

“Mister Comstock, are you still interested in the Ghost Host position and would you be willing to come in for an interview?”

Do the neighborhood dogs poop in my yard?

"But of course."

sign

When I arrived downtown at their offices, the first thing that announced itself was a friendly welcome sign addressed to me personally…
Say, I like that, very nice.
The next thing that announced itself was a deputy sheriff (circa 1900) that looked like he stood about ten feet tall and packed a hand cannon strapped to one leg.

“Are you Corey Comstock?”

I considered bolting from this weird Wyatt Earp but found myself nodding instead. The tree-top lawman waved me back into the bowels of the building where a computer screen glowed its LCD authority and a spare chair beckoned. After the introductions and some conversation, the turn-of-the-century gunslinger produced a laminated one-page script and handed it over.

“Read this.”

It was an extended paragraph of southern dialogue where some doomed convict told a bloody story of depredation and lopsided comradery inside a merciless jail run by a madman sheriff.

charlie

Wow, it sounded exactly like some of the places I’ve been forced to work over the years…

So…

I recited the dialogue.

The man sitting across from me wearing that big leather Stetson burped out a single word.

“Bigger.”

So I stood up and got into it, gesturing here and bellowing there, whispering with aside, groaning with anecdote, and grunting with demise.

Afterwards, he applauded.

bars

And so did that other guy over there hunched in another chair in the corner, washed aglow with its own LCD radiance, previously as inconspicuous as a Christmas-hat nerd in the Where's Waldo pictures.

Well, well, well…

Deputy Sheriff Tree-McKnees hinted around that Ghost Host was out.

But…

Ghost Actor was in.

Actor?
What?
Me?

gallows

I’ve always been the guy BEHIND the scenes all my life… You know, the writer behind the words, the artist behind the ‘toons, the animator behind the characters but I have never, never, NEVER been the one in front of the camera.

Never?

Well, you know what they say…

Never say never.

So…

If you ever find yourself within the lovely historic city of Saint Augustine, take a ride on the Ghosts and Gravestones Ghastly Trolley and be slightly horrified by your not-so-good friend, Charlie Powell.


Maybe I should just find out who this knot-head is and take him out of the picture… Show him the professional side of my brass knuckles or the vacation underside of the deep blue sea.

- MINIMAL CRIMINALS