Page Five Ghoul

Heya SEG-ers! This week I’m heading to Eastern Europe. And NOT because I got blackout drunk in a bar in New Jersey and came to with someone else’s blood on me in the back of an organ harvesters van outside of Prague. I’m going because I’m looking for a grandmom. A legendary grandmom who lives in Russia named Baba Yaga. ‘Baba’ means ‘grandmom’ so you know this is going to be a great time, right?

Well, I know old people do weird things but this lady makes me miss my one racist grandmom whose house smelled like powder and mildew and had wall to wall carpeting in the kitchen and bathrooms. It was weird; she had furry toilet seat covers. Anyway, I get to Russia and I find out she lives way out in the forest. This is where I would normally just go home, but I felt bad about a grandmom living all by herself in the woods. So I said to myself, “Stephanie, today is the day you overcome your crippling fear of trees.” And off I went.

When I get to Baba Yaga’s house, it’s like spinning around on chicken legs and shrieking. I wouldn’t go near it because the fence around it had real skulls on it and that’s gross. I wouldn’t dissect the fetal pig in science class, so I’m certainly not going near somebody’s skull. Before long this tall bony lady is rowing herself across the grass in a barrel. I felt really bad. When old people go crazy it’s really hard to deal with. She said she was Baba Yaga and I asked her what’s the deal with her house. She told me she forgot the magic words and now she can’t get it stop. Then she said she was looking to sell and was I interested? I asked if she was taking the skulls and the chicken legs with her. She said she’d take the skulls, but the chicken legs were part of the house. No thanks Baba, I’m vegan. My grandmom is way better.