A New Stereophonic Spook Spectacular

"Isn't this just a lovely evening, Marge? Joe?" gawked Raymond insincerely, but only as insincerely as everything he said. In truth this Italian "vacation" was a bust and this whole decaying nuclear family knew it--even though Joe was only four. Ray had worked nearly the whole time, and the fact that the work was as dark as it always would be was just the icing on the shit cake. The slimy meat of it was that the whole affair was only a feeble attempt to save an ailing marriage and fatherhood, coming also at a time of gloomy weather in Italy. No upstanding Christian and American could appreciate this ghastly, Satanic-seeming clime... or for Joe, this perfect, magical Halloween clime. Joe liked to be frightened as much as his father loathed all that was out of the norm.

The route from the city, such as it was, to the village of their stay was short enough that Ray had suggested taking it by foot a few times, and this was one. While it hardly befit a red-blooded American to miss the glory of a ride by car... there was the romance to think of, the romance dying between Marge and him.

Such a devilish gloom though. So much evil emanating from the graveyard of these half-Pagan Europeans. Such devilish laughter among the trees.

...Devilish laughter?

Was it those Catholic-school children? Almost surely not, they looked as terrified as he felt. And besides, the direction was wrong. The directions were wrong.

...Directions?

The laughter came from only one direction, one corner of the graveyard whose wall ran along their route, but from the other nearby corner came a series of Nazi-like screams. Yes, definitely German. No, now Russian... Italian... Polish... French... English?... German again. But all the same voice. They were moving now... he couldn't just scale the wall at the corner and catch the people... please God, let them be people... behind this atrocity. He would look like a fool caroming among the trees. Raymond Eawest will never look like a fool. Raymond, Eawest, will never look like a fool.

Then an egg hit him in the face. A putrid stench enveloped him and he gagged and doubled over.

Joe Eawest found all of this extraordinarily cool, funny, and frightening.

A fearful disquise

Glenn Anzalone stood alone on the ornate balcony. He was eleven years old, and had no interest in entertaining his Uncle's Italian relatives. Ever since his Mom dragged him to Italy he'd wanted to see some sites but had been relegated to gofer and dancing monkey by both his Uncle Alfredo and his mother. Here it was, Devil's night, and he was far away from home with no friends to play with, stuck at this grown up party with a load of drunk Italians and his Mom. Even though it was a masquerade party, and even though he was all dressed up as a skeleton, Glenn was in a sour mood and not in any shape to party. What he really wanted was to scare someone.
Just then, one of the exquisitely dressed cocktail servers stepped out onto the veranda. The lanky man glanced whimsically at him, and depositing an empty serving tray on the ledge, straightened his tailcoat and lit a short, filterless cigarette.
"Have you been admiring the full moon, Master Anzalone? She is quite pretty tonight, no?", the man said.
Glenn snapped out of his brooding and glared at him, "How did you know my name? Who are you anyway?" and he turned back to look at the view.
"Everyone knows you are my employer Alfredo's nephew. My name is Jens, and I have been assigned to keep track of you, and keep you entertained, let's say. I couldn't help but notice the look on your face earlier. I can tell you'd rather be scaring the wits out of someone than being here at this dull soiree. Why don't you let me clue you in on just such an opportunity?"
Glenn sized the man up. His English was perfect and had only a slight accent, which to him seemed a cross between Italian and German. Jens had piqued his curiosity, especially the uncanny way he had described Glenn's very thoughts. So Glenn decided he'd bite.
"Who could I scare? I don't even know any kids here and I have no clue where to even start."
He wondered if this man was a pedophile or a serial killer, or if--
"I can assure you, Glenn, I am no serial freak or rapist of little boys. And you don't need friends. You have me."
Glenn was stunned.
"You- did you just read my mind?" Glenn took a couple steps back towards the large French doors that opened onto the patio.
"I have your attention now, I see. Here, take a look at this picture,"
Jens reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black and white photo. He held it out towards Glenn, "It is of Alfredo and your father and I, back in 1957. This is proof that I am trustworthy and not out to get you."
Glenn took the photo and looked at it carefully. It was a picture of Uncle Alfredo and his Dad. There was Jens too, in a curious looking biker jacket and jeans, leaning up against a pick up truck next to his Uncle.
"How long did you know my father?" Glenn handed him the photo and took another uneasy step towards the door.
Jens smiled. "We met in school. Look, we can talk about all of this whenever you like, Master Anzalone, but the group of elementary schoolers over at St. Mary of The Lake are just about done with their meal and are about to walk to the nearby Halloween party, two blocks from the school. They walk right by the parish graveyard, which is wooded with thick pines and oak trees. There are many places to hide and I HAVE THESE," Jans pulled five eggs from his jacket pocket,"They are quite rotten."
Glenn grinned and came over to him. "Wow..." he breathed.
"Our time is short if you want to scare them," Jens breathed back.