He came across a house that was clearly deserted. All the windows were empty, no lights were on. He ran up to the house to see if he could get shelter from the cold, driving rain. There was nowhere near the house to shelter him from the rain. No eaves, no porch roof. The only way to stay dry would be to get inside, and as he could tell no one lived there he didn’t think anyone would mind much. He tried the door, and it was unlocked. Timmy was happy to be inside.
He sat near a window, trying to dry off a bit, when he heard a voice behind him. “Do you know what I do with my giant red mouth and my long purple fingers?”
Timmy whipped around and saw a huge, awful monster, with horns on top of its head, purple fur, beady little eyes, long fingers and crooked fingernails, and a giant red mouth filled with pointy teeth.
Terrified, Timmy turned to run down the hallway. The monster ran after him, his giant feet crashing along the floor behind him. Timmy made it to a doorway, ran through, and shut the door behind him.
From the other side of the door, Timmy heard the monster getting louder. “Do you know what I do with my giant red mouth and my long purple fingers?” The monster was too close, so Timmy ran, out the other side of the room and into a bathroom. He shut the door behind him just as the monster caught up with him.
The monster was even louder now. “Do you know what I do with my giant red mouth and my long purple fingers?”
Timmy had no place to hide except the bathroom closet. He crawled inside and closed the door behind him as the monster burst into the bathroom. The monster was just outside the door, and Timmy had nowhere else to run. He made himself as small as he possibly could, and held his breath.
For a moment it was quiet, and then the monster tore the closet door open. Timmy was trapped. The monster’s breath was on his face as it asked again, “Do you know what I do with my giant red mouth and my long purple fingers?”
Timmy could barely squeak out an answer. “No,” he said.
“Then I’ll show you,” said the monster.
(Put your finger horizontally across your lips and flap it up and down while making a “B” sound. Make a funny face as you do it, and get a big laugh from your audience!)
Mary’s favorite story was a story about secret treasure hidden in a house nearby. “Less than a mile away,” her grandmother would tell her, “there are riches beyond your imagination, but also danger. That’s why the riches are still there.”
Over many nights Mary’s grandmother shared with her the legend of the secret treasure on Donovan Road. Donovan Road was a dirt road nearby, and it led only to a single house. In that house, there once lived Mr. Donovan who made his living through robbing others. The neighbors said that he had stolen from ships and trains and museums, and that he kept a trunk of the greatest treasures in his house.
“One night,” Mary’s grandmother said, “A man came to take back what was his. Mr. Donovan had stolen a family heirloom – a ring that had belonged to the man’s mother. This man stormed the house demanding its return, and fought with Mr. Donovan. Both men died, and they say that both spirits still haunt the trunk where the treasures are kept, fighting for all time over the precious ring.”
Grandmother said that many had tried to get to the treasures on Donovan Road, but none had ever succeeded.
Mary was thrilled by the story. She decided she wanted to see the house for herself. So the next day, she packed a flashlight and put on her jacket, and headed out for Donovan Road.
She walked down the long, dark road alone. Swish, swish, swish was the sound of her feet rustling through the leaves.
At the end of the dark road was a narrow path. Here it got even darker, and the path was so overgrown her flashlight hardly worked. Still, Mary was determined to see the house. Rustle, rustle, rustle was the sound of the branches around her as she fought her way into the gloom.
At the end of the path, there was a clearing. And there she found the haunted house her grandmother had told her about. It was dark, and Mary set forth to look around. Crunch, crunch, crunch was the sound of her shoes on the gravel as she walked up to the porch.
The door on the house was massive and heavy. It took all her strength to open it. It was pitch black inside. Mary’s flashlight swept over the old furniture, covered in sheets. “Heh, this place is probably not even haunted,” Mary thought. Feeling brave, she walked in. Creak, creak, creak was the sound of the floor as she crossed the front room.
Just then her flashlight gave out. She was in the house, in the dark. She could only see the shapes of things around her. She started to get scared, but she wasn’t giving up. She saw a hallway ahead of her, and started down it. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle was the sound of her tentative steps across the floor in the darkness.
Mary could just see a bit of light ahead of her. It was a room – but Mary didn’t know where the light could be coming from. Was it the ghosts? She was strangely curious, and decided to go see. Tap, tap, tap was the sound of her tiptoeing down the hall to get a closer look.
The light was coming from a trunk. This must be the trunk that her grandmother had told her about! The trunk was glowing gold. Mary was mesmerized. Then she heard it – the sounds of the spirits. Ooooh, oooooh, oooooooooooh was the sound of the ghosts that battled over that treasure.
Mary felt chills go up her spine. She was so close! Perhaps the sounds were just a trick. She would just take a quick look inside – she had to know if the story was true. The key was in the lock for the trunk, all she had to do was open it. Click, click was the sound of the key turning in the lock.
Mary started to open the trunk, but there weren’t any jewels in there at all! Oh no, do you know what she found?
Marshmallows! (At this, throw a handful of Campfire marshmallows into the air or out into your audience for a funny fright.)