This is year two of this story. If you didn’t read last year’s or if by some chance you’ve forgotten it, you should read the original Genealogists Halloween first.
Ring! Ring! (Actually a “Monster Mash” ringtone is heard)
“Hi Jenny, Are you almost ready?”
“Yep, I’ll be over in a minute. I just need to put some finishing touches on my costume.”
“What are you going to be this year?”
“I’m an unindexed, unalphabetized county history that isn’t even in chronological order.”
“Oh, yuck. Those are scary.”
“I just need to work a bit on my ridiculous and long-winded 19th century hyperbole. What do you think of this-
The ancestors of Patrick FitzFlabbergast, though they came to these shores from Ireland, were of Scots and Norman descent and go back into the deepest mists of time. Among his illustrious predecessors he can proudly count both King Duncan of Scotland and William the Conqueror. Those men and many other eminent ancestors must surely look down from on high with pride at their industrious progeny’s untiring commercial efforts in the swine and fertilizer trades.”
“I like it! But you should change Ireland to “that distant Emerald Isle.” Otherwise, it sounds like you’ve swallowed enough dictionaries.”
“I hope so. If I need to eat another page of the OED I won’t be able to move! I have a bit of Webster’s left over, but I think I’ll leave it on my desk. No wonder people in the 19th century were always dying of ‘stomach troubles.’ I’ll be over as soon as I change the Ireland part.”
“We’ll probably already be heading down the street but it should be easy to catch up. I can’t move very fast in my costume.”
“What are you?”
“I’m the 1890 census. I have to stop whenever the fake flames engulf me. At least my mom ordered my brother not to hose me down and water damage me, even if that would be authentic.”
“Ok, I’ll look for you in a few minutes.”
(Call ends.)
(A few minutes later.)
“Hi! Glad I caught up with you. Those flames make you easy to find. How is it going?”
“Alright. Crabby old Mr. Johnson looked at me and said that he had the 1890 census in his garage. Hah, Hah… So we played a trick on him.”
“What?”
“We filled his garage with the real 1890 census. Just don’t ask too many questions about where we got it. Let’s just say that somebody was owed a favor by the National Archives. I for one don’t want to wake up with a microfiche reader’s screen in my bunk bed…* Hah, Hah, just kidding. We put a dummy on his porch swing.”
“Have you gotten any good stuff?”
“I got a book called “Almond Family Wills” but I can’t keep it. I’m allergic to nuts. You want it?”
“Sure! Hey, where’s Billy? I thought we were going to try to get him into the old courthouse before it burns again.”
“His mom says he has to wait till he’s older. It’s too dangerous.”
“So what is he doing instead?”
“I think he’s going to investigate land records in neighboring counties for references to his death.”
“Oh No! We have to stop him! At midnight all the boundaries change. He could vanish into a gap in the records until next Halloween!”
The children gasp and scatter, heading toward different counties. Some stop along the way to ask at houses if anyone has seen a boy who looks like he could have been born in 1674 but is living according to online trees, but people just go pale and quickly close their doors.
Finally, as they approach a county boundary, they see his ghostly form by the light of the fake census flames. They make a mad dash and tackle him.
“Hey! I’m undead but you don’t need to kill me!”
Just then, as distant bells mark the stroke of midnight, the earth trembled and the the sign in front of them changed from “Welcome to Jefferson, The Happy, Well-documented County” to “Unattached territory! No records were kept and no one returns!” The children screamed and ran back to Billy’s house, pushing their book carts as fast as they could go.
Finally, safe at Billy’s, his mother consoles them with extra helpings of hot cider and quit claims, but poor, undead Billy will have to wait another year for his chance to remove the “Private- Living” label from his costume.
* Godfather reference. Too obscure?