“There’s something wrong with that tree.”
“Which one? That tall one over there?”
I ask, looking up at this skyscraping tree.
“Yeah. There’s just something wrong with it.” Sam looks up, in deep thought of what mysterious event may have taken place there.
I get my ~psychic-voo-doo-pretend to be a ghostly medium~ hat on, and walk over to the deck, to where the tree was.
“Oh dear. This is bad, Sam. Wow. Hmm, the feeling I get with this tree, is that someone was buried here. Hold on… I’m feeling something else….Yes. Someone was buried here under negative circumstances back in the late 1800’s.” I tell him, in this meditative hocus-pocus voice.
“Really? You feel that?” He asked, still staring up at this eerie looking tree.
“Yes. Hmm…The branches are full of life from another soul from the past, that’s why you get those vibes.”

Come on Sammy boy! Have another drink! (I thought to myself) How can I tell him I had absolutely no psychic or medium powers whatsoever? This was too good.

Sam lives in a house that is very old. This mansion-like house has so many rooms, cellars, secret compartments and other mysterious doorways, I wouldn’t be surprised if you touched one of his books in his library, and the whole wall turns around and grabs you into another room. This house was owned by one of the men who died on the Titanic. Even before that time, this house was owned by governors back in the early 1900’s and possibly even earlier. Of course one can say it’s haunted, being that it has so much history to it, however, just to tease Sam until he is scared to go to sleep at night, is my source of getting a recreational high.

“Which room do you feel you have more spirits in?” I ask.
“Oh, the living room, definitely. I can’t sit in there by myself; I have to have people in there with me.” He replies.
“You know something Sam? I felt the very same thing! I walked in there, and I got goose bumps!” I tell him, with a straight face. It couldn’t have been the central air that made the room go down to twenty below.... Brrrrr!

See Sam scared. See Sam run. See Sam sell his house for a million and one. Money

Being that Sam secretly reads my blogs, (I found this out recently) He must have read the post, “My Sweet OCD”. It basically tells you how I am a little hesitant to drink out of someone else’s glass, or share a drink with someone, or to take a bite out of someone else’s sandwich—vise/versa. I’ve always been like that. The thought of someone drinking milk out of a milk carton in the fridge makes me queasy. That milk is now theirs…

Sam was gracious enough to share a bottle of wine from his cellar. It was a very good vintage wine---which I appreciated very much. As we all sat there talking, having a good time, I can see Sam was up to no good. His eyes had a mischievous glare about them. Was he drunk? Was he still thinking about this God forsaken tree? What was brewing? I then see him take the bottle of wine, and start drinking out of it. Lovely. This is so not what I wanted to see. This will be my last, and final glass, unless he opens another one of these puppies up. He takes another slug out of this expensive wine bottle as he stares me down to see my reaction. Bastard. I can only think this, because I was now a guest at his home. Little bastard is secretly going into my blogs to check out my pet peeves and other disorders I have. I hope he gets to read this blog---bastard! Of course I could have ran inside to grab a beer, however, wine and beer together? Just doesn’t go.

I have something in mind for you, Sam, my dear friend. Next time you are in my territory, just beware my friend. I know what irks you too. Revenge is mine.

You’ve just been blogged! I'm hoping on this beautiful Sunday morning, you are enjoying your delicious bloody mary to take good care of that wine induced hangover. Cheers!