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The Tenth Month

I'm going to skip over how Senator Elizabeth Warren stepped on her own dick by announcing her minuscule fraction of either northern or southern American non-white ancestry. That was just stupid.

So since Halloween is coming up I thought I'd share with you little children a couple of stories I did when I was 30 or so and the internet was a brand new thing, a wondrous thing. These are ghost stories I found online somewhere. I kinda liked how the ghost story tellers were at various level of amateur and I think the voices came out okay.

Also, I noticed that I really screwed up the caption order. Hey, gimmie a break, I was only 30 years old! This comic was originally printed as a mini comic, and what you're seeing now is a scan, of that comic. In this scan, the caption order is not as obvious. I didn't foresee that I would need to post every week 18 years in the future and failed to format in accordance. So I added some stuff. Anyway next week should be better. Please enjoy.

Comic transcript

Story Name: Black Utida< br />< br /> This is strange, but it is true, unfortunately. the farm is now an evil soybean farm, 5 miles from utah state in idaho. these stories have been told to me my whole life, most occurred in the 1950s. the house was called black utida, because the boards turned black, most likely from mildew. even now, there's an evil and very sad feeling just driving past the field where the house once stood.

well, on to the stories. the first house, which burned in 1960, was built in the 30s. anyway, before it burned, my grandmother would see people walking around looking very angry, and sad. they were dressed in almost pioneer clothing, and they would stare at you with this look that I've been told, made many run into the house, which was no safer than the yard.

sometimes they would follow you and they didn't have a human form. they would become a black blob of sorts and the room would get cold. my mother told me of the time she was playing in the yard and felt she should go into the barn. although she had been told it was a bad place, she went. she still won't tell me what she saw. she said it was evil and the barn should have been burned.

faces looked in at you from the windows. the strange part is that this only happened during the coldest or hottest times of the year.

well, shortly after that, the house burned. my grandmother drove past and saw 20 people in that pioneer clothing, dancing in a circle where the foundation had been holding hands and dancing. they were transparent and looked to be playing a giant game of ring-around-the-rosie, except they didn't fall down or stop.

could these be the angry spirits of settlers that died over the winters or summers due to the lack of food and water? or could have been killed in an indian attack? we still don't know, and sold the property in the 70s. a second house was built, and burned as well. there is nothing there now except soybeans and potatoes.

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