Just another morning at Offhand Manor . . .

[gridlore]

I'm getting out of bed this morning after not getting called at 0630 to work a post, and my legs are quite sore. I am complaining about this

"Another day as Creaky-Leg Joe." pause "Creaky-Leg Joe, Legend of the Bayou!" (really bad Cajun accent) "You boys headin' in thems swamps? Gotta warn ya, Creaky-Leg Joe will git youins!"

(Regular voice) "Why do they call him Creaky-Leg Joe?"

(Cajun) "Because he has a bad leg! Man can't but hobble around!"

(Regular) "Well, then we could just run away from him, right?"

(Cajun) "You city boys and your logic, g'wan then, have a good time!"

All that before I got dressed. Kirsten was mildly amused.

Comments

[nodrog]

“Run all ye like - Creaky Joe never stops!”

That was a good chiller in 1940s Weird Tales - the narrator was a blind newsstand operator in NYC.  His hearing and observation served; he knew his regulars by their footfalls!  One day a guy comes by very distraught - he was an Indiana Jones who’d opened the wrong tomb, and the guardian, an invisible mummy, came after him - walking slowly towards him, a shuffling step like carpet slippers, homing on him like a slow cruise missile with unlimited range.  Nothing stopped it and it never stopped.  Ever.  He could flee by boat, plane, buy some time, but only a respite and those cost money and he was broke now, frantic, on foot, just like it was…  This obviously whack nutcase went flailing away.

“You meet all kinds in New York…  Paper, mister?” the blind man said to the next passer-by.  The pedestrian made no answer, and the news seller didn’t ask again; he sat quietly, oh, very quietly, listening to the slow shuffle of carpet-slippers on the pavement, going past - following…