Where are we? Oh, okay, the third week of spooky Ozarkian tales. Excellent.
Late one night a drunk was on his way home after being at a pretty wild shindig. He got lost on the road home and walked into a cemetery. The sky was getting cloudy, there was no moon and the wind was whistling through the trees. After some stumbling around he thought he heard his name.
He just knew it was the devil calling for him because the preacher always said what a sin drinking was. So he started to run and fell into a deep hole. The voice called his name again--right next to him! It was pitch black and he couldn't see a thing.
After a moment his eyes adjusted and he saw a dark shape sitting by him. It said his name again and when he jumped up, it said, "You can't get out."
So frightened by this creature, he jumped six feet out of the hole, landed on the edge, and ran for home, vowing never to drink again.
From inside the hole, his friend sighed. Earlier in the day some men had been digging a new grave He'd fallen into the hole about an hour before and when the other drunk fell in, he hoped they could help each other out. Now he'd just have to wait for someone to come along in the morning and fetch a ladder.
Happy Friday, kids. May the weekend be ever kind to you and not allow you to fall into open graves on your own.