Flurnston Boils’ House of Horror

Hair-Raising Tales of the Macabre!

Not That Mike The Other Mike11 Comments

Introduced as usual by Flurnston Boils
Welcome back, fright fans! In our first tale of terror we meet a fussy customer who’s about to have a bone to pick with her hairdresser. It’s a cutting-edge story I like to call A Little Off the Top:

Mimsy Mufflefluff was a glamorous cat, vain and proud. She was covered head to tail in long flowing white fur that she groomed constantly. So when her husband Tom casually remarked “Looks like your fur’s a bit uneven on one side, dear” she rushed herself to the nearest salon.

“Just even it out,” she demanded, and the hairdresser set to work. He was a strange lanky man, with spindly fingers and an eye that kept twitching, but he worked quickly and presented her with a mirror. “Oh, no!” she gasped, “you took off too much and now the other side’s too long. Fix it!” And all that afternoon and into the evening, the hairdresser tried to satisfy her demands, until…

“Oh, Thomas,” cooed Mimsy later that night. “Come and see! Am I perfect now?”

cat looks at prop cat skeleton
Actually, I think your left front femur’s a bit longer than the others…
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Unjust Desserts

Not That Mike The Other Mike5 Comments

With your host, Leighton “Lance” Boils WQTE-TV Halloween Legend Flurnston Boils
Miss me? I bribed one of the orderlies with my last pack of Luckies to get out, but it was worth it. I do regret my nephew’s flippant disrespect for the traditions of horror, not to mention my library. While I plot my revenge, please enjoy this half-baked tale of terror:

There was something not-quite-right about the new babysitter, Spotty thought to himself. From the sidelong glance from his sister Dotty, he knew she’d sensed it too. Maybe it was the way the tall young woman stared at them with glazed, unblinking eyes. Or maybe it was her strange dress, tattered and faded and smelling of patchouli. Perhaps it was the funny cigarette she started smoking as soon as Mom and Dad were gone.

But whatever the reason, Dotty didn’t like it and she slipped away to her safe place, leaving Spotty alone with the visitor. “It’s always the same. They always run,” said the babysitter. “But you like me, don’t you?” she said, leering at Spotty, “and so I’m going to make you a special treat.”

Spotty went out to the back porch as the strange woman busied herself in the kitchen. There was no point in trying to comfort Dotty, for he knew she preferred to be alone when she was spooked. In a little while, she would feel better, and maybe then the three of them could play. It would all work out.

“Oh, Spotty,” called the babysitter some time later, waking him from his nap. “I’m so sorry that your sister didn’t like me,” she cooed at him, “but we don’t need her anyway. That’s why I’ve baked a lovely cake for just the two of us to share.”

spotted dog looks at spotted cake
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! (Reddit)

No dessert for me, thanks, Sharon H.

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Rattle and Squ–EEK!

Not That Mike The Other Mike7 Comments

Once again, here’s Leighton “Lance” Boils
Welcome back, meat sacks! Looks like the campfire’s getting a little low, so toss a few more of Uncle Flurnston’s first editions on the fire while I tell another tall tale with a very unhappy ending:

“I’m telling you guys, I really did it! It was a mouse as big as my whole body, and I brought that bad boy down all by myself! You gotta believe me!”

The other cats just rolled their eyes and left. Herman had told so many tall tales that his friends never took him seriously anymore. But for once this was no tale. It was a dark night weeks ago, just like this one, and Herman had managed to corner the biggest rat he had ever seen. He dined well that evening — and savored the memory ever since.

Herman went home alone and laid down on the porch. It was late and the house was dark. He was about to replay his triumph in his mind once again when he heard a rattle in the distance, followed by a squeak.

Rattle… squeak. Herman looked around but saw nothing. Rattle… squeak. Was it on the sidewalk? Under the porch? Rattle… squeak. Frantic now, Herman looked everywhere for the source of the unsettling noise, until he came face to face with a hideous creature plodding towards him.

“I belieeeeeve yooooou, Hermaaaaaannnnn!”

cat looks at toy mouse skeleton
SCREEEEEEEEEEAM! (Reddit)

Looks like he’s got a bone to pick with Herman, Sharon H.

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Careful What You Fish For

Not That Mike The Other Mike9 Comments

With your host, Leighton “Lance” Boils
Are you all sitting comfortably? Of course not; it’s cold, we’re in the forest, and I didn’t bring enough camp chairs. Anyway, here’s a story about a sucker who learns that getting what you want isn’t all it’s cracked up to be:

Avery was a hungry cat. He was also a finicky cat. He ate his kibble dutifully and without enthusiasm, for what he truly craved was the taste of seafood: salmon poached to perfection; the comforting taste of a tuna sandwich. Alas, his unkind masters never shared of their table.

One day in the woods, as he dangled his paw in a nearby pond and daydreamed of broiled halibut, a glint of gold brushed past his arm — a fish, like none he had ever seen. With one greedy swipe, he knocked it from the water, and was about to devour it when it pleaded “Please spare me, and I will grant your one fondest wish!”

Avery knew at once what he wanted: seafood. But what kind? Charbroiled swordfish steaks on a bed of wild rice? Shrimp scampi with fettuccine in garlic lemon sauce? It was his one wish and it had to be just right.

Then it came to him: A vision of rugged fishermen hauling traps from the ocean, of exotic crustaceans and melted butter, the satisfying k-k-krack of the shell. “I want,” he announced as he tossed them fish back into the water, “for you to make me a big fat boiled lobster.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” said the fish with an impish grin.

cat in lobster costume
I guess I could have phrased that better… (Instagram)
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